The Dog Days of Summer
by Maybe the Moon
Summary: Sirius spends the month of August with Remus on the Lupin family farm. Written for the LJ Dog Days of Summer challenge. Slash.
1. Chapter 1

Remus's bedroom window faces west and so the setting sun bursts through and nearly blinds them, turning the air into showers of dust motes and turning everything into one of his mother's old Muggle photographs, all orange and brown and dirty gold. Sirius on his stomach on the bed, paging through Remus's runes textbook, kicks his bare feet together, the bottoms absolutely filthy because he hasn't worn shoes since he arrived that morning. And they have been out, outside exploring the Lupin farm, running bare-footed and four-footed through every clutch of sprawling tree and every pebbled path and the meadow of tall grass where the sheep graze and the river where Remus's father pulls fish for the family supper.

The farm is all the Lupins have, it was left to them and it is all that they are worth so they live from it, off of it. The house was once a barn and it sags in the August heat, leaning to one day and fro the next, and at first Remus is ashamed to bring Sirius to it. He didn't tell him about the hole in the roof that has to be patched with magic through every rain, or the toilet that only flushes every second time, or the spiders bivouacking under the porch. Remus's house is falling apart, a patchwork house of wood and glue and hope, and hardly the sort of place a boy of proper breeding should be expected to spend a summer.

Sirius's first words when he arrived, crashed through their hearth and stood up and knocked the soot out of his ears were, "It's bloody _ brilliant_, Moony."

And if his parents ever wondered about the nickname Remus doesn't care, because in his bedroom now with the horizon on fire outside and inside, it's still hot from the day and Sirius's is skin flecked with dirt and freckles and shadows of sunset, and they are fifteen and growing no older, not this summer, because Remus's house _ i is /i _ brilliant and the month lays ahead of them, long and lazy like the yawning stretch of a dog.

--

On the second day, Sirius sets Remus's hair on fire.

Not intentionally of course because really, Remus oughtn't have been standing so close and didn't he know that there is a _bomb _involved in a dungbomb, and Sirius had forgot that it was even in his bag. Which left Remus smelling bad and nearly bald, though unhurt except for his pride, and his mother made him soak in the tub for an hour to get the smell out. Then she cut off the rest of his hair, with scissors, which horrified Sirius to the point where he banishes himself to the yard to wait.

'Honestly,' she says as his hair falls down around their ankles, red-gold and grey like the sun-scorched grass in the garden. Remus ducks his head, her hand smoothing over the soft fuzz of it, brushing away the last stray hairs. 'At least, it will be cooler.'

It is cooler when he goes outside, finding Padfoot looking indifferent in the shrubbery near the big tree. When Remus was five his father hung a swing from the big tree and Remus spent hours on it, airborne and laughing and thinking if he could just swing a bit higher, he would fly. He swung in the mornings before the sun was too high, and he swung in the afternoons when the tree gave him shade, and he swung in the evenings by the light of the full moon.

There are still bloodstains in the wood.

Remus sits on the swing, his feet firmly planted on the ground now and his head bent. He can hear Padfoot's sniffs and grunts, the rustle of paws in dry grass. There are bees in the big tree and the air is heavy with their buzzing, the breeze brings on it horses and dirt and cooking fish. A normal day, the second day of August, except that Remus hasn't got any hair anymore.

Something wet swipes across Remus's bare leg and he looks down, looks at Padfoot who now has hair on his tongue, and Remus laughs and throws his arms around the dog's neck. He gets drool on his shoe, but it is all right.

In the morning his hair has grown back, and Sirius cleans out his bag. Just in case.

--

The third day is actually the twenty-seventh day that the county hasn't seen any rain. Everything is covered in a thick layer of dust and apathy, and the garden wilts despite Mrs Lupin's attempts to keep the vegetables alive. In the morning Mr Lupin discovers that one of the cows has died, and from Remus's bedroom Sirius can hear a strange sound coming from the barn, like the constant bray of a fearsome animal.

"It's a chainsaw," explains Remus, when Sirius asks. "Mum doesn't like how meat tastes when it's cut by magic, so she makes Dad use it whenever he has to cut something up." Remus calmly turns the page of his magazine, casually, as if he weren't describing gruesome butchery. "Mum's people come from Mullingar, so. She knows something about cows."

Sirius makes a face and rolls onto his back. They haven't gone out today. The air is thick and sticks in their throats, the heat leaving shadows in waves along the ground. He might entertain the idea of a swim but even the short distance to the creek seems too much trouble. So they stay in Remus's room watching the day pass along the walls.

Dinner that night is, not surprisingly, steak. Sirius catches on quickly that this is a luxury not often afforded the Lupins, and that this is their making the best of a bad situation. He may be Pureblood but Sirius understands what the loss of a cow means to a farm. There's lemonade instead of milk, and no butter on the bread so that there might be some for tomorrow's breakfast. Conversation is stilted, though Mrs Lupin does mention that Remus's father will be going into town Tuesday next to inquire as to the next cattle auctions.

"This is good, Mrs Lupin," says Sirius through a mouthful of beef and potato. She smiles at him indulgently, which is really all Sirius will ever ask of her.

Later, much later, in the middle of the night, when Remus is sprawled asleep and Sirius is curled up in his nest on the floor, the heat splits the sky open and the rain finally comes. The thunder purrs distantly, then rattles the windowpanes. It takes a mighty crack to jerk Remus awake and in a quick flash of lightning Sirius can see him sitting up and looking frantically round the room.

"Moony," he says, standing and finding one of Remus's hands, tugging. "Come on. Come _ on_."

They take the stairs two by two, their footsteps lost in the chaos of the storm. Outside it is gloriously wet, the rain falling hard and fast in fat drops, and they aren't in the garden for more than a moment before their pyjamas are soaked through. It's loud and bright and frightening, and Sirius loses some of his nerve now that he's out in it.

Remus, however, is laughing. His arms are out and he's spinning, spinning and making Sirius dizzy. His hair flies out in all directions, stuck to his face when he stops and he looks at Sirius and smiles, in the wide, giddy way that shows his crooked canines, the uneven curve of his mouth.

"It's brilliant!" he shouts over the noise. "Isn't it? Padfoot?"

Remus laughs again, and somehow it overcomes the thunder.

Sirius grins back.

"Yeah," he says, watching Remus throw back his head with his mouth open, drinking the rain. Water snakes across his throat in rivers. "It's brilliant."

--

They are grounded on the fourth day, for going out in the rain and getting mud all on the floors.

The day after, Remus's father suggests they go fishing. Sirius has never been, which is not surprising of a boy of proper breeding raised in London. He watches as Remus pulls fishing poles out of the cupboard in the hall.

"What're those for?" he asks.

Remus grunts, intently untangling a knot of fishing line. "For catching the fish."

Sirius frowns. "Why not just summon them? Your dad's a wizard, yeah?"

"It doesn't work that way, Sirius," says Remus, handing him a pole. "Come here, we've got to get bait."

"Bait?"

Which, it turns out, is Padfoot's area of expertise. In Remus's mother's garden he digs a hole, spraying Remus with fresh dirt. Remus laughs, shaking his head, his bucket full of fat nightcrawlers he's sorted from the soil. Padfoot is filthy, which naturally makes Sirius filthy, but it does not stop Remus's mother from giving them both ice-lollies before they start off toward the stream. The rain from the night before has left the ground beneath their feet soft and the trees stretch cheerfully over their heads, and the stream is running more heavily than it has in weeks.

Sirius makes terrible smacking sounds around his lolly, ice-cream dribbling down his chin. "Muggles," he says, licking his lips. "They're a bit ridiculous, yeah?"

"Sometimes," says Remus. They come to the bridge, and Remus decides that they will fish from it. "Not always though. You're just not used to it."

"And you are."

Remus shrugs. "Well, my mum is a Muggle." He leans against the side of the bridge, finishing his lolly. "She has to do things the way she knows. And my dad loves her so, he does things the way she knows."

Sirius doesn't say anything to that. He nods at the bucket of worms. "What now?"

"Come here," says Remus. "I'll show you."

Spearing a worm on a hook, it turns out, is one of the few things to make Sirius Black squeamish. He wriggles like the worm pinched in his sticky fingers, frowning and making noises until Remus takes the worm away, and does it for him. "Poor worm," he says, watching the wretched thing writhe, hook protruding from its body. "Sorry," he tells it, and looks at Remus expectantly.

"Now, you cast it out into the water." Remus does, a graceful arc of his arm and flick of his wrist, and the line is in the water and Remus nods at Sirius. Sirius's first attempt fails, and his second attempt results in the hook catching the branch of the tree behind them. Eventually he does get his worm in, and he clutches the pole as if he expects it to be wrenched from his hands at any moment.

"Now what?" he asks.

"Now," says Remus, "we wait."

Sirius nodded and was quiet, and managed to wait nearly five minutes before nudging Remus in the side. "When do we catch a fish?" he asked, whispering because the place and the moment seemed to need him to.

"When they want to be caught," says Remus quietly. "Shush."

Another five minutes goes by. "Remus-"

"It takes a while, Sirius." Remus shifts, stretches a little. "One time my dad and I were out here from just after breakfast to nearly supper." Remus often measures time by meals. "We didn't catch anything until we were just about to go back, but I think it was just confused."

"Remus," Sirius whinges. "You didn't say it was going to take so _ long_." He fidgets where he stands. Remus looks at him.

"Patience," he says. "You have to have patience. It's not so bad. It's nice out here."

It is nicer, and Sirius knows it, knows that it's better than being stuck in the house again but he has no patience, James Potter took it from him five years ago and he thinks it might have got stuck at the bottom of his school trunk. Sirius sighs and wiggles, shifts from one foot to the other, sighs again, whistles and then stops when Remus glares at him.

Finally, _finally_, Remus catches a fish.

"Here!" he says, shoving his pole into Sirius's hands. "You do it. So you can't complain you didn't do anything interesting today." When it becomes apparent that Sirius hasn't a clue as to what to do, Remus sighs and moves behind him and demonstrates how to pull, and reel, and land the fish. It's not a big fish, but from the way Sirius gapes at it as it squirms and gasps in Remus's hands, it is the biggest fish in the world.

"A fish!" Sirius crows, watching Remus get the hook out of its mouth. "I caught a fish, Moony!" When Remus smiles at him, it is the same crooked, indulgent smile of his mother, and Sirius beams.

After that, there's no more complaining and by the time they leave the bridge and the stream they have caught enough fish for supper. Sirius insists on carrying them on their string, chattering away about how they're going to go fishing again tomorrow, and the next day and the day after that. Remus carries the fishing poles, and listens, and keeps smiling.

And Sirius still has ice cream on his chin.

--

Remus has practice in the morning, piano practice. Sirius wakes to the steady thud of _ do re mi _ from somewhere downstairs, and he finds Remus in the sitting room. The Lupin family piano is old and Sirius suspects it is held together as the house is, by sheer will and not a little bit of magic. There's an hour-glass on the back of it, white sand trickling down, counting off what's left of Remus's lesson.

Sirius leans against it with an apple in his hand, watching Remus's fingers fly across the keys. He is playing something Sirius doesn't know, or that he just doesn't recognise. Remus doesn't look up.

"I didn't know you played," says Sirius, crunching into his apple. "You never said."

Remus frowns, squints at the notes in front of him. "You never asked."

He switches to something faster, more complicated. His fingers slip and the wrong notes seem louder than the right ones, punctuated by words Remus mutters under his breath lest his mother - who, Sirius thinks, has a bat's hearing - catch them. "Fuck," he says, and it's only the second time Sirius had ever heard Remus swear.

"I can play the violin," Sirius blurts out, and immediately he regrets it because it wasn't anything anyone was ever supposed to know, violins aren't cool and he's never even told Jamesabout that. "Er."

Remus's hands go still and he twists, looks at Sirius. "You can?"

"Um." Sirius frowns at his apple core. "Yeah. Don't go telling people that. I don't even know why I said anything."

"I won't. Tell anyone." Remus nods gravely. "Why did you tell me?"

"I don't know!" Sirius says. "It just came out! It's not like I was after learning it or anything, my mother made me learn it. I hate it." He doesn't, not really, but he has a reputation to maintain. "It's stupid, what am I ever going to do with a sodding violin?"

Remus shrugs. "Same thing I'll do with a piano, I reckon." He looks at his hands on the keys. "I don't mind it so much though."

Sirius grunts, waves his hand at Remus. "Go on, then," he says. "Go back to playing." He nods at the hourglass. "Time's almost up and we're going fishing again when you're done, so you'd better get cracking."

He does, and the music fills the house again and this time, there are fewer mistakes. Sirius watches Remus's hands until they make him dizzy and he looks at the hour-glass instead.

The sand's been run out for a few minutes before he tells Remus that his time's up.

--

Remus's mother says in the morning that it's "a soft day," which means that the air outside isn't nearly so heavy as it has been; it's cool and damp, not raining really, only just. Breakfast is earlier than it has been all week, and much larger - sausage and bacon and eggs, a bit of tomato, toast corners and black-and-white pudding that Sirius isn't too certain about. Remus watches him push it around on his plate for a bit before leaning in and telling him it's okay to leave it; he doesn't much like it either. Sirius nods, looking relieved, and polishes off his egg.

"Mum's Irish," Remus explains later, after they're installed in the backseat of his father's old Cortina and heading toward the village. They're done up in Sunday best except for Sirius, whose only nice things are dress robes and so he's wearing trousers, a jacket and tie of Remus's. They do not fit him very well, and he tugs constantly at the sleeves. "She was brought up in County Westmeath. She met Dad when she came here for university."

Sirius, who Remus knows has never been inside a Muggle motorcar much less one actually moving, manages to stop messing about with the lock on the door long enough to listen. "Yeah? What's university?"

Remus's mother laughs. She is a bit like Sirius Remus thinks, in the way she reacts to new things. Remus's father isn't a Pureblood and so Sirius is a marvel to her. "It's school, dear. Where you'd go after you've finished Hogwarts, if it wasn't magic."

"More school!" Sirius snorts. "Not on your life!"

"Anyway," Remus continues, lowering his voice so that only Sirius can hear. "That's why Mum's a bit batty on Sundays. She's a Catholic and she does things the way she grew up with it, you see. Up early, and all the food. Then we go to church."

Sirius blinks. "Church." Remus sighs.

"You'll see," is all he says.

And poor Sirius does. The church looks just like the rest of them, stone walls and pointy bits stretching up toward the grey sky. Sirius is oddly subdued when they walk in, aware of all the Muggles and the strange people up at the front in what could be wizard's robes if they weren't white. He sits between Remus and Remus's father, and when he's handed a hymnal he pages through it, frowning.

Mass is, as per usual for Remus, quite boring.

"I never thought I'd find people as uptight as my parents, Remus," says Sirius afterward, once they've escaped the stuffy church and are back in normal clothes, walking along the stream. "But those folks your mum hangs round with... wow."

"She doesn't really," says Remus. He picks up a stone and hurls it into the water. "She goes out of habit, Dad says. I asked him once because it's the only time Mum ever acts like that. He knows she believes in God and all but he doesn't think she believes in all that."

Remus suddenly stops, and looks at Sirius who is knee-deep in the stream and trying to catch minnows with his hands. "Padfoot, you want to see something?"

"Wot?"

He crooks a finger. "Come on."

The Lupin homestead isn't just the house, and the farm. There is land as well and it is a relief to Remus's parents because it is better than gold in Gringotts, that land. It is mostly flat, thick with trees and the stream runs right through it, keeping things green and lush and drawing in the animals. It is not unusual for Remus, during an Epic Exploration, to encounter foxes, rabbits and the odd badger. And sometimes, there are even better discoveries.

"Here," says Remus in a hushed voice, putting out a hand to still Sirius beside him. He pushes through the overgrown shrubbery, motioning for Sirius to do the same, to follow him. There is the remnants of a path beneath their feet, leading to a small clearing. Sirius gasps.

"Bloody hell."

There isn't much left of it. Skeleton walls and an archway, trees growing in it, around it and through. The ceiling is long gone, replaced by branches and leaves, but it's still possible to find where the altar once was. One wall even has most of the window left in it, shards of old glass caught in the cracks between stones. Remus suspects a fire, likely brought on by candles or - more interestingly - a disgruntled soul.

"This is my church," he says softly. They are contained here in this space, shrouded by the trees and the dim light, holy ground. "It's not got anything fancy about it but I reckon it was once. I don't think anyone knows its here or else the Muggles would've made it into something for their holidays, yeah?"

Sirius pokes around the rubble eagerly. "It's _loads _better than that other one. Nobody else here for one."

Remus grins. "That's why I like it. It's just mine. So there's nobody here to tell me what to believe in or what."

There is a shaft of light that has managed to crack the canopy overhead, and Sirius stops where it falls. When he turns to look at Remus his eyes are impossible - too expressive to be blue, too lovely to be grey. Remus's breath hitches.

"What do you believe, then?" asks Sirius, and for a moment Remus has no answer. Sirius stands in the light of a fallen church and Remus can't hardly breath, let alone speak. He doesn't know why but like with anything he's ever thought about while inside a church, he doesn't think he wants to know. Not just yet.

Finally, when the clouds shift and the moment passes, he exhales slowly.

"This," he says. "I believe in this. It's still here and it still makes you feel like..." Words rarely fail him, but they do now. "It's just this. It makes me want to believe." He shrugs. "I think that's enough."

Sirius nods and says nothing. He doesn't have to.

Back at the house Mrs Lupin greets them with tea and biscuits as the seventh day ends.


	2. Chapter 2

After five years Sirius is as acutely aware of the approaching full moon as Remus's parents are, or perhaps Remus himself, which is why it does not surprise him that Remus has steak for breakfast on the day before. It is a very rare steak, with the blood from it dark and thin against the white of the plate. It is a treat for Remus, Sirius is certain, because at school he can hardly ask the house-elves to bring him raw meal for meals without arousing suspicion. Remus eats, and Sirius pushes his eggs around on his plate until Mrs Lupin gives him a look, and he finishes them off.

He's seen the cellar, because Remus had shown it to him on the very first day. It is a cellar and nothing more, though it's less dark than the one in Sirius's parents' house. There's no ghoul in it either. "There was one," Remus had explained, "but after a few full moons he hared off to the village. I think he haunts the attic over the chemist's now." The cellar is empty except for a chair and a small bed that's falling apart, repaired by magic one too many times.

"I want to be there," says Sirius when they're outside, Remus sitting on the old swing and Sirius lying on his back in the grass. "I know we can't run but Padfoot can still keep you company."

Remus shakes his head. "My parents," he says, by way of explanation. Sirius frowns.

"We could tell them."

"Sirius!" Remus gapes. "You can't tell them you're an illegal Animagus!"

Sirius flips over onto his belly, chin resting on the backs of his hands. "Why not?"

"Because..." Remus flounders, frowns, bites his thumbnail. "You just can't, all right? It's not fair to Prongs and Wormtail for starters. My parents would think I put you up to it. No, it's fine." He shakes his head, wraps his arms around himself. "I'll be fine." His jaw is set and Sirius knows there's no point to arguing with Remus about it, though he doesn't have to like it.

They spend the rest of the day avoiding the subject.

It's terrible, the next night when the moon rises and Remus isn't there. Sirius sits in Remus's bedroom, watching the moon's slow crawl into the sky. The house is quiet, the eerie silence of magic. He knows Remus's mother is sitting in a rocking chair beside the cellar door, knitting or at least pretending to. He watched her for a while, making small talk that sputtered and died out when her fingers slipped and Sirius could see that they were shaking. He'd excused himself then and now he sits on Remus's bed, fighting to stay awake until the moon is gone and Remus comes back.

He wakes and there is a thin light in the window, too bright to be moonlight but not enough that it is morning. He creeps downstairs to find the cellar door open, Remus's mother asleep in her chair, hands white-knuckled around her knitting needles. Sirius hears Remus's father's voice and follows it down the stairs.

"Sirius," says Mr Lupin. He is leaning over the cot, and Sirius can see a pale shoulder in it. "I thought you might be awake. He's been asking for you."

"I can stay," he says earnestly. "If you want to sleep, I can stay. With Remus."

Mr Lupin nods and moves aside, and Sirius can see Remus. He's seen Remus before after a transformation but it has been a while since he's seen him like this, pale and exhausted, fresh wounds under a poultice of potions and powders. Sirius can smell the bitterness of cleaning spells, scouring charms that would take the blood off the floor and walls. It reminds him of St Mungo's.

Remus is sitting up slightly and has something in his hand, pinched between his fingers like a cigarette. The smoke smells sour. "Padfoot," he croaks. "I was waiting for you."

Sirius waits until Mr Lupin has gone before pulling the chair over and sitting, eyeing Remus with a mixture of guilt and curiousity. "Your dad lets you have that?" he asks, nodding at the thing in Remus's hand.

"It helps," he says. "It's for pain. It's something he heard of from a healer, in America." He offers it to Sirius. "Go on, you try it. It's lovely. Tastes horrible but it gets better."

"Er." Sirius takes it, frowning a little. "It's like a fag, right?"

Remus nods. "Only, you inhale it and hold your breath. It has to stay in your lungs a bit, otherwise it doesn't work."

"Right," says Sirius. Between his lips the spliff is still moist from Remus's mouth. He inhales sharply, a bit too fast and his chest all but explodes. He coughs, so hard he's nearly sick, his eyes watering. "That's bloody _awful_," he sputters.

Remus laughs.

"It took me a bit," he says. "Go on, give it another go. It's brilliant, Padfoot." Remus's smile is lazy and long. "Go on."

The second time is a bit more successful. Sirius manages to keep it in for a few seconds before he has to breathe, and he only coughs a little. "It- I feel dizzy," he says, blinking and looking at it in his hand. "What isthis stuff?"

"S'brilliant, that's what it is." Remus slumps back against his pillow and giggles, wincing a bit. "Give it here, again." He takes it and inhales from it expertly, closing his eyes and sighing. "It's the only thing that works. Better'n those sodding pain potions at school. I wish Dad would let me take some with me but it's not legal, y'see. To have it." He giggles. "Muggles. They don't use it like we do, y'know, so it's illegal now."

He passes it back to Sirius. "Well, it's a plant, right?" Sirius asks, taking another drag. It's easier this time, and he can feel a pleasant heaviness crawling slowly through his veins. "Reckon old Slughorn's got loads of it in his stores."

"Aye." Remus's eyes are still closed. "Tired, Padfoot."

"I can go-"

"No." Remus's hand comes out, wraps thin fingers around Sirius's wrist. He turns his head toward Sirius but doesn't open his eyes. "Stay here."

Sirius hesitates.

"All right," he says finally. He puts out the spliff and Remus tucks it under his pillow. Sirius feels boneless, hollow and very, very tired. "I'm tired too, Moony."

Remus opens his eyes, and they are greener than Sirius has ever seen them. Sirius looks at him for a moment before he moves, sliding off the chair to settle beside him in the cot. It is cramped and the mattress is thin and smells of stale blood and magic.

Sirius thinks it's the most comfortable bed he's ever been in.

"All right?" asks Remus, shifting as much as he can to give Sirius a bit more room.

"Yeah," murmurs Sirius. "All right."

Remus sighs, and Sirius is asleep before his head hits the pillow.

--

Late in the morning Remus's mother comes down to wake them. She says nothing about finding the boys asleep together in the cot because there is nothing she can say. Remus is sleeping and she is glad of it; too many mornings she has watched her boy stumble about the house like an old man, unable to sleep because of the ache in his bones and the pain that crawls through his blood. She wakes them gently and tells them to get themselves cleaned up, because Remus's father is going to drive them all to the shore. The sea air, she thinks, is the only thing they can offer Remus after these nights.

Sirius is a beautiful child. She watches the way he moves and she wonders how someone who lopes across the garden like an awkward dog can seem so graceful. She has never seen eyes such as his on a boy, they are as grey as the sea they will wade in. When she looks at him she is always reminded of the grey, soft mornings of her childhood, before school and church. There is a secret history in Sirius's eyes that she knows she'll never be privy to.

She suspects, however, that her son knows all of Sirius's secrets.

When they reach the sea Remus and Sirius go off together down the beach. Remus's mother remains with her husband and they browse the shops full of things they cannot afford but that are lovely to look at. She does purchase a small pendant of a sand dollar that she thinks Remus ought to give to Sirius, as a souvenir. The sand dollar is dull and grey and not at all like Sirius's eyes, but something in its delicacy reminds her of him.

Remus returns without Sirius. Instead he has with him a disheveled roustabout of a dog, too friendly to be a stray. It runs between their legs, drools on Mr Lupin's foot and only sits when Remus tells it to. "Pad- Sirius has gone off shopping," Remus tells her, when they ask about him. "He'll be back soon. He has to find something for my birthday, he says."

Remus's birthday is in March, but his mother doesn't feel like mentioning it.

They are on the dock when there is a sharp cry from below their knees. The dog looks up, a small crab dangling from its nose. Remus makes a sound and drops down, carefully plucking the crab away and tossing it aside. He inspects the dog's nose, smoothing his hands over its head. Fingers find the backs of ears and curl there, the dog's tongue is long and pink at the side of its mouth. She watches the affection in Remus's hands and in his eyes - her father's eyes, Irish and smiling - and knows this dog is no stranger to her son.

When the dog looks up at her she gasps.

"Mary?" Her husband touches her arm. "What is it, love?" Remus looks up at her, concerned. The dog whimpers.

"Oh." She looks quickly away, glances down at her watch. "Nothing, I caught a chill. Suppose we ought to be going home soon."

They stay for a few minutes longer. Remus's mother does not look at the dog again, though she can still see his eyes in the waves of the grey, grey sea.

--

There's a painting in the hall that Remus has always loved, since he's been tall enough to see it. It's of a beach in Ireland called Fanore. Remus has been there only once, so long ago that he is certain his memory of the place owes more to the painting than anything else. It's a Muggle painting, one of his mother's things, but it doesn't matter. It doesn't have to be magic, Remus thinks, to be so real. His mother's stories, her fond memories of holidays there as a child are all the magic he needs for it, and whenever he looks at it he swears he can hear the sea quite plainly and feel the warmth of the tiny, white sun over the sea.

In the first few days after the moon Remus is an early riser. He likes this, likes the solitude it affords him though more often than not his mother is also awake as well. On those mornings they sit together and have their morning tea at the rickety table in the kitchen. They don't always talk, and when they do it is usually of mundane things such as school, or the Windsors, or whether or not it might rain.

Remus leaves Sirius asleep and hogging all the pillows, descends the stairs and finds his mother in the larder. She emerges to the scrape of the chair against the stone floor. "Good morning, love."

"'Morning, Mum." Remus sits, elbows on the table because it's too early for manners. "S'raining."

His mother goes about making the tea. "Yeah, it's bucketing down," she says, putting the kettle on. "Told your da we ought to build an ark, since we've certainly got the animals." Remus giggles. "D'you want scones?" she asks.

"Yes, ma'am."

She brings them, heavy and thick and crowding a cracked, flowered platter. "Tea's almost done," she says. "Did you sleep well?"

Remus nods, mouth full of scone. "Mmhm."

"Good." She gets two mugs and soon there is the smell of tea in the kitchen, cutting into the heady scent of rain and yesterday's dinner still lingering in the wood. Remus wraps his hands gratefully around his mug and watches the curl of the steam. He prefers his mother's tea to that at school, and there's no question it's got to do with the lack of magic.

They sit, Remus and his mother, in companionable silence. The rain lashes against the windows and Remus fidgets at the first purr of thunder in the distance. His mother smiles.

"It's to go on like this all day," she says. "Suppose I'll have you and Sirius underfoot and bored out of your skulls!"

Remus giggles. "We won't be," he says, sipping his tea. "We'll play chess, or there's homework we could do though I doubt Sirius will want anything to do with that. We'll find something to do."

His mother is silent for a moment. "Perhaps," she says softly, "you could find that dog you were mucking about with. Yesterday."

He goes still, staring hard at his hands. "It was just a stray," he murmurs to the table. "S'probably off begging scraps somewhere. I don't know where it is." He swallows hard. "Just a stray."

"Remus..." She leans forward, peering at him. He shakes his head.

"_Just a stray_." Remus's stomach churns, tea and scone joined by fear. "Just..." He makes the mistake of looking at her and he knows he's done for. He's never been able to lie to his mother, except by omission. He feels sick, because if she asks him again he will tell her _ everything_.

Mrs Lupin studies him for a long moment. "Not a stray," she says quietly.

"I can't tell," he blurts out. "I promised. It's a secret." He bites his bottom lip. "I _promised_."

"Oh," she says, reaching out and touching his face, pushing the hair out of his eyes. "And you're so good at keeping secrets, too." Her tone is fond, and a little wistful. "You don't have to tell me, love."

Remus sighs. "I want to, though," he says in a small voice that makes him feel ridiculous. Isn't he nearly an adult? "I want to tell you everything, because- Because it's _important._"

Remus's mother looks thoughtful, and they are quiet again. Remus's tea has gone a bit cold but he drinks anyway, for comfort and for something to do. He can't look at his mother.

"Sirius," she says suddenly. "He's- he's the dog."

Remus makes an odd, choking sound and looks down at his hands again. "He's going to kill me."

He can hear his mother's smile. "You didn't tell me," she says calmly. "I guessed it, didn't I? Yesterday, down at the shore, he looked at me." She fidgets with a bit of scone. "Sirius has very unusual eyes. Unique."

After a moment, Remus finds his voice. "Animagus," he whispers. "He's an Animagus - he can turn into a dog. Magic."

"Your dad's told me about those." She studies her tea. "He said his great-granddad was one, the fellow could turn himself into a parrot! I can't imagine-" She stops, and her voice drops into a concerned whisper. "Remus? Love?"

He's gone pale, fidgeting, still feeling sick to his stomach. He wants to run away but he feels rooted to his chair, so instead he wraps his hands around his mug of tea, his knuckles white.

His mother reaches over and pulls the cup away, squeezing one of his hands in her rough, warm one. "Remus," she says softly. "Remus, it's all right."

"It's not all right!" he cries, looking up at her, eyes burning. "He's not supposed to have done it! It's _illegal! _It'll get them into loads of trouble."

Mrs Lupin raises an eyebrow. "Them?"

Remus winces. "Oh, _bollocks_," he moans, covering his eyes with his hand and realising a moment too late that he's just cursed in front of his mother. "Sorry."

"Remus-" she pauses, and for a horrible moment he thinks she's going to _laugh_. "Remus, it's all right. I'm not going to tell anyone."

He looks at her through his fingers. "You're not?" He lowers his hand. "Erm. Why?"

She shakes her head. "What business is it of mine?" she says. "Besides, you looked happy." She smiles. "With Sirius-the-dog."

It takes him a moment to realise that she's not cross at him, she's not horrified by Sirius's recklessness. If anything, she looks almost _impressed_. "Er, I suppose so," he says, after a moment. "It's- sometimes he's better as a dog." He smiles a little. "He can't talk, for one thing."

She giggles. "Would that your father could be an Ani-whatsit! A rabbit, perhaps." His mother grins. "Though, I might accidentally cook him, and then where would we be?"

"Mum!" Remus gapes at her.

"Only joking," she says. They're silent for a moment, his hand still clutched in his, until he begins to squirm.

"You're staring," he mutters.

"I am," says his mother. "It's just occured to me how much you've grown, since you started going to that school. I barely recognize you, anymore."

Remus's ears begin to burn. "Mum..." he whinges. "I'm not _that _different."

"You _are _that different," she says insistently. "You're happier. It's been ages since I've seen you happy."

He shrugs, thoroughly embarrassed. "I'm all right."

Remus's mother looks as if she isn't certain what to say. He panics a bit, wondering if he's done something wrong and she hasn't got round to it yet. He's never seen her look so earnest before.

"Remus."

"Yeah, Mum?"

"You do know that I love you, don't you?"

He frowns, confused. "Yeah, Mum. Of course I know that. I love you, too."

"I'm glad," she says with a small smile. "I just- I want you to know that there's nothing that's ever going to change that, right? I love you as you are and whatever you're going to be, I'll love that too." Her grip on his hand tightens. "I'll love all of you."

Remus fidgets. "Mum..." He doesn't know why, but suddenly he's uncomfortable. He feels like his mother, who won't stop looking at him, can see right _inside _him. He wonders what she's looking for. "Mum, you're being weird."

She chuckles and lets go of his hand. "Sorry," she says. "I just want you to be happy, Remus. However you can manage it." She sighs and picks up another scone, breaking it apart. "I know it's not easy for you and it's never really going to be. For any of us. Did you know," she says, nibbling on her scone, "that your grandmother - my mum - hates your father?"

"She does?" he asks, eyes wide. "Is that why only you and I go to see her?"

"Exactly," says Remus's mother with a nod. "She was _ furious _ when I told her I was marrying a wizard." She gives him a conspirator's wink. "She was completely against it, but my father-"

His mother's voice goes soft, as it always does when she speaks of her father.

"He sent a letter," she continues. " I got it a week before I was to be married. It said, _Do it for love, because love's older than all those silly religions and rules that always seem to get in the way of it. _He told me God created the world because He was lonely and wanted something to love. Love comes first, before anything else, and nothing else matters." She smiles. "He was right. My mother tried very hard to stop me, but in the end I married your father, and I've never once regretted it."

"Well, good luck for me that you did," says Remus with a grin. His mother laughs.

"Indeed. But Remus, you've got to find love wherever it is and when you know it's there, you catch it and keep it. It's not anyone's business what you do with it because it's yours."

Remus nods. "Okay."

His mother musses his hair. "There's a good lad." She looks at the clock. "Better get breakfast on. Go wake Sirius. I'll make certain your dad hasn't drowned out there trying to feed the bloody pigs." She rises and collects the mugs, pausing to press a kiss to Remus's forehead. "Go on, now."

He takes the stairs two by two, pausing at the painting in the hall. The sun is always a spot of white and yellow paint in a pale sky. Blue and green waves sweep a quick fan over the beach, leaving shallow pools of light here and there on the sand. It's such a beautiful place; Remus has never understood how his mother could have ever left it for a soggy farm in soggy England.

Now, he thinks, he understands completely.

In his bedroom Sirius has gone doggy in his absence, a pile of fur and paws and lolling pink tongue in amongst the pillows. Remus gives no warning before he pounces.


	3. Chapter 3

Behind the barn on the Lupin property is the shell of an old Viscount with only three tyres and no boot, the skeletal remains of a broom-shed that had burnt down before Remus was born, and a few bales of hay. To Remus it doesn't seem like a very nice place, particularly at night when the Viscount looms and the crickets are deafening, but Sirius insists it's perfect and so they scramble over the hay and find a spot in the grass.

"Have you got it?" asks Sirius. He is breathless and wriggling, Padfoot in every way but body. "Did you get it? Moony?"

Leaning his back against the wall of the barn Remus produces a bottle from his pocket. "Got it," he says. "You know this is Muggle stuff though, Sirius?"

"Doesn't matter." Sirius settles in beside him, wiggling to scratch his shoulder blades against the old wood. "It's still whiskey. Let's have a taste, go on."

Remus uncorks the bottle and after a moment's hesitation takes a sip. It's awful and not at all like his dad's Firewhiskey, which he's had nips of on special occasions, and it burns his throat. He coughs ungracefully.

"Ugh," he sputters, eyes watering. "That's horrid."

"Give me that," says Sirius, nicking the bottle from Remus's hand. He takes a drink and immediately chokes, spluttering half his mouthful all down his front. "_ARGH!_"

He hands off the whisky to Remus, wipes his mouth on the back of his hand and looks down at his chest in dismay. "That stuff's shit."

"I told you," said Remus. He's secretly pleased that Sirius can't handle it, either. "Muggle stuff's pretty awful. We should have nicked from Dad's cupboard, he's got real Romanian dragon ale in there."

"Bugger that," says Sirius. He gives up on his vest and pulls it over his head, balling it up and using it to dry himself off. "We can get wizard stuff at school. I've never had anything Muggle." He takes the bottle back and studies it. "Is it your mum's?"

Remus nods, swallowing awkwardly. His tongue feels like it's wearing a jumper. "My granddad sends it," he explains, taking it back. "Every Christmas."

He takes another swig and this time it's not so bad. It still tastes terrible and it still burns, but at least he can swallow without coughing. "It gets better," he tells Sirius, handing it back. "Give it another go?"

Sirius does, and this time he manages it and for a bit they are quiet; the only sounds are the swish of liquid in the bottle and a symphony of crickets. Remus looks up at the waning moon, grateful that the ache in his bones is fading at last.

"What're you thinking about?" asks Sirius suddenly, jarring Remus from his thoughts. He looks over and Sirius has a long stem of grass between his lips. His too-bright eyes are fixed on Remus, expectantly.

"Er." Remus turns a bit pink and he blames it on the whiskey. "Nothing, really."

Sirius, being Sirius, does not accept that for an answer. "Moony," he whinges, prodding him in the side. "You're a crap liar."

"The moon," he says quickly. "That's all. I feel better now that it's not full anymore."

"Oh." Sirius sits back and looks at his hands. "Yeah, me too."

Remus nudges him. "You're not," he says, and there's no malice to it, only sly understanding. "You love full moon. It means you get to break rules and be Padfoot for a whole night."

As if on cue a dog barks in the distance. Sirius rolls his shoulders and perks up, looking toward the sound as if he hears words in it Remus doesn't understand.

"S'not true," he says after a moment. "I mean, maybe it was, but. That was _ before_."

"Before?"

Sirius looks at him. "Before I saw how it is when we're not at school." He picks at a hole in the knee of his trousers. "Your mum was worried and your dad looked old."

Remus takes another drink from the whisky bottle. "Yeah," he sighs. "It's harder on them than it is on me, really. I can't wait to move out on my own, so they don't have to watch anymore."

"Where you going to go?" asks Sirius.

"I don't know," Remus shrugs. "London. Glasgow, maybe. Mum's got cousins in Dublin, I could go there."

Sirius shoves at him, nearly spilling the whiskey bottle into the grass. "You can't go to Dublin, you arse! You have to stay in England with me and Prongs! And Wormtail," he added, as an afterthought.

"Watch it!" Remus grabs at the bottle and sets it upright again. "I didn't say I was GOING to go to Dublin. Just thinking out loud, is all."

"That _better_ be all," growled Sirius.

They are silent again. Remus fidgets. It's bordering on uncomfortable, only because Sirius still looks upset at the thought of Remus moving out of England.

"Wonder what James and Peter are up to," Remus says, finally, hoping to change the subject. "Peter said something about going with his mum to visit relatives in Manchester, and I reckon Prongs is still in Corfu with his parents."

There is no reply from Sirius. Remus looks over and Sirius has made the hole in his trousers even bigger, the pale skin of his leg visible beneath bits of thread and his fingers. "Have you had an owl from James?" Remus asks him, frowning a bit.

"Not since before I got here," says Sirius flatly. "S'alright though, 'cause his letters are boring anyway. They're always about Evans."

"Well," says Remus, "You know how much he fancies her." The whiskey is starting to hit him now; everything is becoming pleasantly blurry around the edges. He thinks he sees a falling star but can't be certain that it's not just the sky twisting a little. "She's smart and- and she's pretty. Er."

Sirius snorts. "She's got more sense than to go out with him, at least. I'll give her that." He swipes the bottle from Remus but doesn't drink, only squints at the label, mouthing the words to himself. A twig snaps somewhere in the trees and Remus jumps. He looks quickly at Sirius, but Sirius is still engrossed in the bottle.

"Padfoot," he says, or starts to but something catches in his throat, and he coughs. Sirius looks over quizzically, and Remus has to clear his throat a couple of times before he can speak. "Padfoot, do you... Er, what do you think about them?" he asks.

"About who?"

Remus swallows. "Girls," he says.

Sirius shrugs. "Don't really know any," he says, leaning back against the barn wall and closing his eyes, tilting his chin to the sky. "They're all right, I suppose. Don't know why they have to giggle at everything, though. And they go to the loo in _ herds_, don't get that at _ all_." He looks at Remus. "We ought to find out what they do in there. You could ask Moaning Myrtle, she fancies you." He grins and pokes Remus with a sharp elbow. Remus grimaces.

"She does not," he mutters, rubbing his side. "She fancies anybody who talks to her rather than chucks things down her toilet."

"But you know what I mean!" Sirius shakes his head. "Girls are just... Well, they're bloody odd, is what they are." He shakes his head. "My cousin Narcissa is always going on about her stupid wedding to that stupid prat Malfoy. She never shuts up about it - dresses and her hair and all that. Ugh."

Remus eyes him. "So, you don't fancy anyone?"

"No," says Sirius. He pushes the hair out of his eyes, only to have it fall artfully back into place. "Too busy with you lot. A girl wouldn't understand the importance of pranks, and she'd only get all cross at me if I hared off every full moon." Sirius barks a laugh. "Can you imagine James, explaining that to Evans? 'Sorry, love. Can't go out tonight, got to go run round the forest with my best mates the dog, the rat and the werewolf. Ta!'" He chuckles at his own joke. "She'd have his guts for garters over that one."

Sirius turns to him, eyes wide, and jabs him with his elbow again. "Why're you asking all the questions about girls, Moony?" He quirks an odd smile. "What about _you_, eh?" Sirius purses his lips and bats his eyes. "Has our ickle Moonykins got himself a lovely bit of strumpet? Eh?" Another jab. "Does he?"

"Leave off!" Remus yelps, knocking Sirius's arm away before he can get in another. "I was just _wondering_." He scowls and rubs his side where Sirius poked him. "You're bloody _pointy_, do you know? You probably ruptured my _ spleen_."

"Moony's got a girl-friend," says Sirius, in a sing-song voice. "Who is it, then? Who's the lucky witch?"

"Sirius, shut up!" Remus rolls his eyes. "There's _no witch_."

"Have you snogged her yet?" Sirius waggles his eyebrows and makes kissy noises. "I bet you've snogged her." He hangs his tongue out of his mouth, reminiscent of Padfoot.

"I haven't snogged _ anybody_!" says Remus, shoving at Sirius with both hands and sending him sprawling sideways into the grass. The whiskey bottle goes flying and shatters against the ground. Remus blanches. "Oh, s, Mum's going to kill me."

"Serves you right," mutters Sirius, sitting up and picking at his hair. "Shouldn'a pushed me, wanker."

"You were being a prat," huffs Remus with his arms folded over his chest. His face burned.

Sirius makes a rude noise. "You haven't ever snogged anybody, then?" he asks. "Honestly?"

"Honestly," Remus sighs. The conversation has drifted into uncharted, uncomfortable territory, and Remus fidgets. "M'not allowed to."

"Eh?" Sirius blinks. "Not _allowed_ to?"

Remus draws his knees up to his chest and rests his chin against them. "Werewolves can't marry. It's Ministry law. We're not allowed to have children either, so I reckon I'm probably not even allowed to kiss a girl." He runs his hands over his legs, though it's hardly cold in the warm, August night. "If I ever got a girl, y'know," he blushes, "up the Floo, the Ministry could chuck me in Azkaban." He swallows hard. "Or chop off my head."

Sirius eyes widen. "Bloody hell, Moony," he breathes. "Could they really?"

"Aye." Remus glances at him. "Reckon I'd rather lose my head though, than go to Azkaban."

"Nobody does," says Sirius, shuddering. "So... you can't ever have a snog, just to have one?"

"Well, I suppose I could." Remus shrugs. "But what's the point? If I can't do anything else, then why bother?"

There's a silence between them, punctuated by crickets and the incessant hooting of a nearby owl. Remus wonders if they ought to go back in. The whiskey's wearing off, a dull headache is beginning to bloom just behind his eyes, and he's very thirsty.

He's turning to tell Sirius this but Sirius is suddenly right there, eyes wide and moon-like and Remus can see a small spot on his nose, he's that close.

"Oi, what're you-" he says, but he's interrupted by the press of cold lips against his own.

It's Remus's first kiss.

It's over almost as soon as it starts. For a second, Remus begins to doubt it actually happened. He blinks at Sirius, whose face is very red and he's clearing his throat and trying to pick up the broken bits of the bottle.

"We'd better go in," says Sirius. The hand with glass in it is shaking slightly. "I'm done in."

Remus just stares at him, until Sirius finally looks over and his face somehow gets even redder.

"It's just," says Sirius, scowling, "you can't go your whole life without kissing anybody, Remus. You've got to do it sometime, so. I reckon I'd just- now we're both done, and if Prongs gets it into his head to ask we don't have to lie. We can say we have done and then just be all mysterious about who." He grins, suddenly. "It'll drive Prongs mad."

Relaxing a bit, Remus smiles back. He still can't speak, so he just helps Sirius pick up the rest of the bottle. They chuck it into the kitchen bin before going upstairs, and before they've even reached the top step Sirius has gone Padfoot. Remus is not surprised.

He is, however, surprised when he climbs into bed and Padfoot noses up to him, sniffing at his elbow before settling in against the curve of Remus's body. He dreams of moonlight, chapped lips, and crickets.

At least until Padfoot starts to snore.

--

"There's a little funfair in South Whalloping, boys," says Mrs Lupin over breakfast.

Sirius pipes up before Remus can swallow his mouthful of egg. "A funfair?" he asks, spearing a tomato with his fork. "What's that?"

Mrs Lupin regards him with curiousity, as one might look at a funny little stone or an oddly-coloured bird. "You've never been to one, Sirius?" she asks. She sips from her teacup, which even though it is chipped Sirius thinks is too delicate for this house. "Haven't they got county fairs for wizards?"

"His parents," Remus blurts quickly, saving Sirius from explanation. "They're rather, er, too posh for that sort of thing, Mum." He shoots Sirius an apologetic look. "They don't go for much like that."

"Is that so," says Mrs Lupin. "A shame, really. They're great fun. You'd enjoy it. There's games and a carousel and candy floss - and didn't Mrs Legbail tell me this morning that there's even a ferris wheel in it?"

Remus brightens. "A ferris wheel!" he exclaims. "Oh, Mum - can we go?" He's nearly bouncing in his chair, something Sirius has only seen him do at Hogwarts, when the house-elves serve Irish stew. "Can we?"

Mrs Lupin laughs. "Of course. Finish your breakfast and you can go."

Remus's plate is clean before she can finish her sentence.

South Whalloping is the next village over, walking distance from the Lupin's farm. It is early enough to still be cool yet the high sun and the thick shadows tell Sirius that it will be hot later in the day. Remus seems unfettered by it and chatters on as they walk down the wooded path into town.

"...and we'll eat until we _ i can't /i _ anymore," he says breathlessly, "and we'll go on the ferris wheel, and we'll see the puppet show - they alwayshave a puppet show. Sometimes it's Punch and Judy, and-"

"Remus!" Sirius punches him in the arm, grinning. "We can't do it all in one day, can we?"

Remus makes a face, rubbing his shoulder and pouting. "We can try," he says. "I haven't been to the fair in ages, Mum and Dad never have time to go." He looks up at the trees that form a canopy over the path. "I hope they have the fire-eaters! They're brilliant, you'll love 'em. Like- like reverse dragons, they are!"

When Remus gets excited he sounds like his mother, Sirius thinks. There's the same lilt in his voice, and the midlands accent becomes suddenly sharper, more musical. Remus's eyes are sort of a dull hazel, not as bright as James's but larger and more expressive, and they're positively dancing as he tells Sirius of a unicycle-riding bear from Russia he'd seen at a funfair when he was small. He talks with his hands, waving them about and nearly thumping Sirius in the nose when he emphatically makes a point.

By the time Sirius can see flags and balloons through the trees he expects the fair to be monumental in size, if it is to fit in everything Remus has been going on about. He is surprised to see how very small it is, but before he can say anything Remus grasps his hand and pulls him toward the entrance. They hand over the Muggle coins Mrs Lupin had given them to a little man in a funny hat, and are given little red tickets in exchange. Sirius frowns at his.

"What's this for?" he asks Remus, holding up his tickets.

"They're to get us into the fair," Remus explains. "They're also for the ferris wheel and the carousel, if we go on them." He tugs at Sirius's hand. "Come on! I want to see _ everything_!"

It doesn't take long to see everything, Sirius thinks. There are tumblers and acrobats, jugglers and Remus's fire-eaters, which Sirius thinks is impressive at first until he realizes they're not really eating the fire. He thinks about reminding Remus of the time James put too many ashwinder eggs into a Pepper-Up Potion and breathed fire for weeks, melting six toothbrushes before it wore off, but he doesn't. Remus watches everything with his too-large eyes and a smile that never quits, and Sirius keeps quiet because he likes looking.

He's always liked looking at Remus.

They haven't talked about the night before, behind the barn. Sirius doesn't know what to say and he suspects Remus is embarrassed, and when Moony is embarrassed he won't talk about it, at all, ever. He'd kissed Remus because he'd wanted to, and because he doesn't think it's fair that he and Remus should go round un-kissed. Sirius himself has had plenty of opportunity to be kissed but he hasn't wanted it from those girls, with their sticky lips and flowery smells that make Sirius's nose itch. Remus's mouth had been soft and wet from talking, and Sirius had come away from it wondering what the inside tasted like.

The thought frightens him. He knows about queers. His uncle Alphard lives with a boy somewhere in London, and even though no-one in the family ever says anything about he knows that everyone is talking about it. He's heard about it in the showers after Quidditch matches, either in jokes or in gossip. Gudgeon and a bloke from Ravenclaw. One of the Prewett brothers and a Muggle fellow in Brighton over summer hols. And Remus has a book about it for Muggle Studies, about the ancient Greeks and the Japanese samurai. The love that dares not speak its name has quite a reputation in whispers, and Sirius has been listening.

"Padfoot!" Remus exclaims suddenly, and Sirius blinks and looks up. They are standing beneath an enormously tall wheel, set with little baskets that, after squinting a bit, Sirius can see people in.

"What's that?" he asks, shading his eyes with his hand.

"It's a ferris wheel," says Remus. "Do you want to go on?"

Sirius frowns. "What's it for?"

Remus gives him a quizzical look. "What do you mean, what's it for?" he says incredulously. "It's fun, that's what it's for." He takes Sirius's hand again and pulls him toward the thing. "Come on."

There's another little man sitting in a booth at the base of the ferris wheel. He takes their tickets from them, and Sirius follows Remus into one of the baskets. When the door is shut and locked, they only have a few seconds to sit before the basket starts moving and suddenly they are soaring up into the air.

"It's a bit like being on a broomstick," says Sirius. Across from him Remus is looking out through the grate. "Only not as high."

"It's different." Remus is insistent.

Sirius frowns. "Not as much fun. It's not like flying, and all the other stuff we can do with magic."

"It's a _different _sort of fun," says Remus, and there's a slight edge to his voice. "It's got it's own magic in it."

Sirius gives him a dubious look but Remus doesn't see, because he's turned back to the grate again. Sirius fidgets, not knowing what to do.

"Look," says Remus after a moment. He points north. "I can see the farm from here."

Sirius looks. Sure enough, in the distance beyond the trees there are the mismatched gables of the Lupin's house, the leaning barn and the old Morris Minor parked in the drive. Remus makes a happy little sound and wriggles in his seat, looking at Sirius and grinning.

"Isn't this brilliant?" he says. After a moment, Sirius nods.

"Yeah." He smiles, because Remus is smiling and it's catching. "It's pretty cool." He looks out in the other direction. "Moony, I can see the ocean!"

"Where?" Remus scrambles over, causing the basket to sway a bit and Sirius grabs his arm.

"Steady on, Lupin!" he cries. "You'll make us fall!"

Remus laughs. "We won't fall," he says. "It's not like magic, we can't just fall out of the sky." He makes the basket swing again. "See? It's fine."

"It's not fine!" Sirius tugs on his arm. "Come here, do you want to see the ocean or not?"

Remus leans his chin on Sirius's shoulder and looks out. The sea is not much more than a mystic line of grey and blue on the horizon, but there it is. "That's lovely," Remus breathes.

"Yeah." Sirius shivers at the huff of Remus's breath against his neck. "Good idea of your mum's, to come to the fair." He turns his head just a bit, to look at Remus from out the corner of his eye. Remus isn't looking at the water but at him, with that same smile from before. "What?"

"Nothing," says Remus. Sirius feels a hand resting on his hip. "Just- thanks for coming with me. Thanks for visiting." He ducks his head and turns a bit pink about the ears. "I've never had anyone visit before. No-one's ever wanted to."

"I wanted to," Sirius blurts out. "I mean- Er-" He can feel the red creeping into his own face, though he hopes it's just sunburn because Blacks don't blush. "Thank you for bringing me here."

Sirius is surprised when, after a moment, Remus leans over and pushes their mouths together.

Their second kiss lasts longer than the first because Sirius doesn't pull back straight away. Remus's lips feel like they did before, though a little sticky from the candy floss and Blackpool rock they'd had earlier. Sirius licks at it without thinking and it makes him gasp, and Remus twitches and suddenly opens his mouth and they're kissing, really kissing, with tongues and everything. Sirius has no idea of what he's doing, but neither does Remus and really, it doesn't matter. What their kissing lacks in finesse it makes up for in every other way. Sirius's toes curl in his shoes, and there's no sound at all except for the creak and groan of the ferris wheel as it spins, spins, spins into the sky.

--

It's late afternoon by the time they return home. Remus's mother has dinner set out for them and Sirius is glad to see thick slices of toast with Marmite. Remus hates it and will go on for hours about the thick paste of evil, but Sirius has loved it from the moment he'd first tried it the week before. He throws himself into his chair and begins to gnaw on his bread, licking his lips and smirking at Remus.

"It's all yours," says Remus, reaching instead for the butter. "In fact - Mum, you can send the rest of the stuff back with Sirius, all right? So that it doesn't have to be in the house." He makes a face and licks a bit of butter from his thumb.

"It's brilliant, Moony," says Sirius, getting Marmite in his hair. Remus shakes his head.

"You are not normal."

They tell Mrs Lupin of the fair, Remus nattering on about the tumblers and the fire-eaters, the jam-tasting and the carousel. She smiles as she listens to him, but when Remus pauses for breath and a bite of dinner, she turns to Sirius.

"And what did you think?" she asks. "What did you like best?"

Sirius nearly chokes on his food, because the first thing that comes to mind is the last thing he wants to tell Remus's mother.

"The ferris wheel," he blurts out finally. "That was the best bit."

"Ah, yeah." Her voice goes wistful. "That was always my favourite thing, when I went to fairs. I met Remus's dad at a fair actually, the one they used to have down in Nether Millstone." Mrs Lupin rests her chin in her hands. "We were put on the ferris wheel together because they wanted to get as many punters as they could on it. We hadn't gone with anyone, you see, so they said anybody on their own had to pair up." She laughs loudly. "We paired up, all right. Spent nearly the whole time snogging."

"MUM." Remus sputters. "I don't want to know that!"

"Then you'd best plug up your ears," she says mildly. "I'm not telling you, anyway. I'm telling your one here." She winks at Sirius. "Anyway, you liked the ferris wheel. I wasn't certain how you'd take to a Muggle fair to be honest. I can't imagine our brand of fun would stand up to what you wizards can do, making fireworks out of thin air, flying about on your brooms."

Sirius glances at Remus, who looks affronted and has gone pink in the ears again. Remus catches his eye and looks away quickly, feigning interest in a tomato.

"It was a different sort of fun," says Sirius, turning back and ducking his head shyly. "It had its own magic in it."

Mrs Lupin smiles at him, and Sirius gets the strangest feeling that she knows _exactly_ what he means, even though he knows she couldn't possibly.

"Aye," she says softly. "That's true, isn't it?"

They finish their dinner in comfortable silence, and out of the corner of his eye Sirius can see a little smile on Remus's face, small and dancing just at the corner of his mouth.

--

Upstairs after dinner, and Remus is in the bath for nearly an hour. Sirius sits on Remus's bed reading a Muggle comic book about a chap dressed like a bat. He understands now why Remus isn't impressed by James's _Martin the Mad Muggle_ books, they're a bit boring by comparison. Martin only ever gets himself into stupid situations, while the Bat bloke skulks around a city and beats seven shades of shit out of another man who looks like a clown. Sirius doesn't like clowns so already, he's fond of this Bat fellow.

He's starting to doze off when he hears the creak of a floorboard in the hall, and the door eases open. Remus peers round the edge of it and when he spots Sirius on his bed, he smiles, slips into the room and shuts it behind him.

"Took you long enough," Sirius says, yawning wide and smacking his lips. "Thought you'd fallen in."

"No," says Remus, putting his dirty clothes in the hamper and tugging at the collar of his pyjama top. Sirius notices that the bottoms have got little dragons on, which he thinks might be rather adorable if they didn't end just above Remus's ankles. "I just- I was pretty filthy. All that dust, you see. At the fair."

Sirius grins. "Right," he leers, and Remus goes scarlet. "Come on, Moony. We've shared a room for how long? I know you does it, just as Prongs does and Worm- Though really, I don't want to think about that fat git having one off while we're in the room." He shudders. "That's just _ desparate_, isn't it?"

"A bit," says Remus, coming round to sit on the edge of the bed. He regards Sirius with some trepidation, then swings his legs up and gets under the covers, burrowing into his pillows and giving Sirius a wide berth in the bed. "When you change," he says, voice muffled some by the linens, "try to keep your tail off my legs. It itches something awful."

"Ehm." Sirius clears his throat and sets aside the comic, stretching his arms back behind his head. "If it's all the same to you, I thought I wouldn't, tonight. You know." He looks over at Remus. "Change."

Remus lifts his head a bit. "Oh," he says. "Well. I suppose that's- all right, then." He lays back down again. "Put out the light, if you're done reading?"

Sirius obliges, getting up to flick the funny little switch on the wall that plunges them into darkness. He waits a moment for his eyes to adjust, the shadows of Remus's bedroom becoming dull shapes, before navigating his way back to the bed. He climbs in, pulls the covers round himself and lays on his side, looking at Remus. He can see the flinty gleam of Remus's eyes watching him back.

They lay in silence for a while, though there are crickets outside and Remus's owl Baskerville hooting in the tree by the window. A dog barks and Sirius twitches, something he hasn't been able to control since fifth year, and he hears a soft huff from Remus.

"Sod off," he whispers. "I can't help it."

"Call of the wild," Remus murmurs back, and there's another snicker. "I'll find you baying at the moon, next."

"No, that's you," Sirius says before he can stop himself. "Er, sorry."

Remus shifts onto his back. "No worries," he says. "That _ is _ me." There's no mirth to his voice, however, and a little pebble of guilt gets stuck in Sirius's throat.

"It's not _all _ofyou," he says quietly. "It's- you know."

"I know," sighs Remus. "S'my furry little problem." He rolls over again, his back to Sirius. "Go to sleep, Padfoot."

Sirius is silent for a moment, listening to Remus's breathing. It isn't even, because Remus never has learnt to pretend to sleep. He also can't do it if someone is watching because he starts to laugh.

"Was it 'cause of me?" Sirius blurts out suddenly. Despite the foot-and-a-half of space between them, he feels Remus stiffen.

"Was what because of you?" asks Remus, in a careful, measured voice. Sirius shifts a bit closer.

"The bath," he whispers. "You were in there so long. Was it- was it me?"

The silence lasts so long that Sirius begins to wonder if Remus really is asleep. Then, "Not everything is about you, Sirius," says Remus.

"Was it, though?" Sirius asks. "Moony-"

"_Yes_," snaps Remus, flipping round and glaring at him. "All right? It was because of you. I-" He bites his lip, frowning and looking cross with himself. "It was nice. Before, in the ferris wheel."

Sirius nods. "Yeah," he says, a little breathlessly. "It was brilliant." He inches closer still. "Why'd you kiss me, Moony?"

"Why'd you?" Remus fires back. "Behind the barn."

"I asked first."

"You _kissed _me first."

Sirius sighs. "Because I wanted to, you stupid prat." He shoves lightly at Remus. "You looked- I just wanted to, all right?" He pokes Remus again. "What about you?"

Remus bats his hands away. "The same. I wanted to." It's dark and Sirius can barely make out Remus's face, but he can hear the embarrassment creeping into Remus's voice. "I liked it when you kissed me so I thought it'd be all right to, you know. Do it back."

"It was," says Sirius. He's quiet for a moment. "Y'want to do it again?"

"What?" Remus squawks. "Here?"

"Yeah, here." Sirius slides across the bed until he's close enough to Remus to feel his breath across his chin. "Moony-"

Remus squirms, and Sirius is afraid he'll get out of the bed so he puts an arm around him. Remus is warm but shaking.

"Remus." Sirius murmurs. "S'just me, all right?" He palms Remus's hip and squeezes. "It's just me."

After a moment he can feel Remus relax. "It's just you," says Remus softly. "Padfoot."

Remus looks up, and Sirius leans in.

Later, when their mouths are tired and Remus complains that he can't feel his left foot, they pull apart and settle on their sides of the bed. Remus is asleep in minutes and Sirius watches him, because he can't sleep and because he wants to memorise Remus like this. There's no worry on his face, he doesn't look tired or cross or disapproving. Sirius wishes for a camera but instead settles for this, for watching Remus sleep until he can't keep his eyes open anymore.

He falls asleep then, with one of Remus's hands clutched tightly in his own.


	4. Chapter 4

Remus thinks it ought to be awkward now, but it's not. He rolls over in the morning and Sirius is there, asleep on his side with his thumb in his mouth and clutching one of Remus's old, stuffed dragons. It's so ridiculous that Remus can't help laughing, and naturally the sound wakes Sirius.

"Wot?" he says in sleepy mumble. He wipes his thumb on the blanket and stuffs Figment under the pillow. "What're you laughin' at?"

"You." Feeling bold, Remus leans over and kisses Sirius on the mouth. Sirius looks surprised, as if he's forgotten that they do this now. Remus ducks his head, shyly. "Er. Good morning."

Sirius suddenly grins, lurches forward and loops an arm around Remus's neck, wrestling him over. "Hi," he says, before swooping in. Sirius's kiss is stale but Remus doesn't really mind. He's still shocked by the kissing, that he likes it as much as he does and that Sirius is doing it with _ him_. He wonders why someone like Sirius would be like that. He wonders why he is.

And then Sirius flicks his tongue against the roof of Remus's mouth and he thinks he knows.

Footsteps on the stairs pull them apart, and Remus is across the room when his bedroom door opens and Remus's father appears. "Good morning, boys," he says. He is wearing a filthy pair of dungarees. "When you've had your breakfast, come out to the barn. Got something to show you."

"All right, Dad." Remus is slightly breathless, turned away from both his father and from Sirius and having a mental conversation with his body. "We'll be down in a bit."

He waits for the click of the door before half-turning. "Pads? Do you want the bath first?"

Sirius is untangling himself from the blankets. "Ta, Moony," he says. He digs through his bag on the floor beside Remus's bureau, pulling out a pair of trousers and a shirt. "Won't be a moment!" He's up and out of the room, and Remus can hear him thundering down the hall, the slam of the bathroom door. After that, he can relax.

He really wishes his body wouldn't do these embarrassing things, especially when Sirius is around. It's bad enough that Sirius _knows_, last night being nearly the most humiliating moment of his life (the most humiliating moment belonged to fourth year and what they only ever refer to as 'The Turtle Incident'). He scowls at himself and thinks about McGonagall in a swimsuit. It does the trick and he's able to shuffle to his bureau and find something to wear.

Sirius is in the kitchen tucking into bangers and eggs by the time Remus gets there, his mother hovering by the door and peering outside anxiously. "Mum?" he asks, sliding into his chair and picking up his fork, ignoring Sirius's waggling eyebrows. "What is it?"

"Ah, Remus." His mother looks over and smiles at him. "Good morning, love. I'm just looking for your father." She turns suddenly, back to the window. "Here he comes!" The door swings open, and she bustles into the kitchen, returning with a small, wooden box.

"Here, Mary," says his father. "Bring it here." He's clutching something to his chest, and Remus cranes his neck to see as he moves the little - squirming! - bundle to the box in his mother's hands. "Keep it near the stove, or the poor little bugger'll never make it."

He looks up then, and catches Remus's eye. "There you are," he says. He nods at the box. "Come have a look."

Remus and Sirius scramble out of the chairs. Peering into the box, Remus gasps. Nestled in a little pile of tea towels is a tiny, pink piglet.

"It was Charlotte," says his father, wiping his brow with a handkerchief. "She started to go while I was doing the cows. There's ten more out the barn, but this little one was too small."

Sirius's eyes are twice as big as normal. "He _is _small," he breathes. "I didn't know they could be that little."

"The runt," says Remus softly. He reaches in and touches the piglet's snout. It wriggles, snuffling the towels. "He's hungry, Mum."

"Not to worry!" says his mother. "I've got him well set. Go back to your own breakfasts, boys. I'll take care of this one." She takes the box into the kitchen, and reluctantly Remus gets back to his own plate. The bangers are cold, but as soon as his mother's out of earshot his father takes out his wand and casts a quick warming spell on their plates.

Remus grins. "Thanks, Dad."

When they're alone, Sirius leans over. "Why can't your mum know that he did magic?" he asks.

"It's not that," says Remus around a mouthful of egg. "Mum just doesn't like it when he uses it on food. Makes it taste funny, she says." He swallows, and gulps at his milk. "She doesn't let him clean with it, either. But for the bigger things, like keeping the roof from leaking and getting some of the chores down, she doesn't mind so much."

Sirius pokes at his sausage. "It's odd," he says. "In my house we use magic for everything. Unless the house-elves can do it." He nibbles at the fried bread. "Your mum's food tastes better, though, than what Kreacher makes. It doesn't look as nice but it's better."

Remus grins. "If you tell my mother that," he says, "she'll probably keep you." He doesn't say how much he likes the idea of that.

The thought seems to please Sirius as well, and he happily polishes off the rest of his breakfast, and some of Remus's when he's not looking.

--

The rest of the morning and some of the afternoon is spent helping his father with the chores. Sirius learns to milk a cow, which results in a lot of jokes using the word 'teat.' He gets milk in his eye, and is nearly sick when he tries some straight from the pail. When they get the eggs from the chickens Sirius only breaks two, and is chased by a tempermental cockerel named Gregory.

"Once," says Remus as they're lugging the egg baskets up to the house, "Dad left the gate open and Gregory got out. He went all the way up the road, hopped on a bus and ended up in Nettlesworth."

Sirius makes a rude noise. "That's bollocks," he says. "Nettlesworth, isn't that clear across the county?"

"It's true!" says Remus. "Mum went spare when the police rung to say that our cockerel was in custody for not paying his fare."

He is chased for his terrible story, and they end up in the creek splashing each other until they're soaked through, and his mother nearly boxes their ears for tracking mud in the house after. It's a good afternoon and after dinner, they sit out under the big tree. Sirius is in the grass, picking at the ants and crushing them between his thumb and forefinger. Remus sits in the swing, swaying a bit and looking up at the sky through the leaves.

"Would you ever want to go on a date?" he blurts out, not looking at Sirius. He doesn't have to look to know he's being watched, and that Sirius's detached expression is now one of surprise.

"Go out?" Sirius says. "Like, to the village or something?"

"Yeah." Remus kicks his heels into the grass. "You know, we could go to the cinema. And there's a little restaurant there. We could get a coffee."

Sirius gets up and Remus looks, watches him come over and grasp the ropes of the swing, keeping Remus still as he looks back down at him. "You're asking me out," he says. "On a date."

Remus turns red. "Reckon so," he mutters, ducking his head against the scrutiny. "I mean, it's what you do, isn't it? When you, ah..." He loses his nerve for a moment, then finds it again and clears his throat. "When you fancy someone."

"You fancy me?" Sirius lets go of the swing and scratches the back of his neck, looking round as if he's not quite sure of himself now. "I suppose you do, since you're - you know. You kiss me and stuff."

The 'and stuff' makes Remus's face burn hotter. "You kiss me back," he says weakly, in his defence.

"Never said I didn't fancy you back!" snaps Sirius. "Er- I mean- Oh, all right." He sinks into the grass at Remus's feet, peering up with him. "We should go out, yeah. On a date."

"Really?" Remus brightens. "Oh, okay. Brilliant." He jumps up and nearly topples over, tripping over Sirius's leg. "Hang on, I'll get the paper. It'll have the film times in it."

They settle on _Rocky _because it's either that or a soppy film about Robin Hood and Maid Marian, and from the description Remus thinks a film about boxing might keep Sirius's attention longer. There's also less chance of him romping around the farm pretending to shoot arrows and upsetting the animals.

His mother frowns, when they ask for permission.

"Why don't you wait for your dad?" she says, wiping doughy hands in her apron. "He hasn't been to a film in ages, I'm certain he'd take you." His mother purses her lips. "Or I could take you."

"_Mum_," says Remus urgently. "You can't take us. And neither can Dad." He dances from one foot to the other, conscious of Sirius behind him and wrinkle between his mother's eyes. "It's- we just want to go _ourselves_."

He hopes that, for once, his mother will mind her own business.

After a moment, she sighs. "All right," she says. She turns and disappears into the kitchen, and Remus wonders if she's cross at him. Sirius nudges him, and he shrugs - he doesn't know.

He's about to go after her when his mother returns, with a five-pound note in her hand. Remus's eyes widen; he's never seen that much money before in his life. "Here," she says, pressing it into his palm. "Take this."

Remus gasps. "Mum-"

"Get yourselves a coffee and cake, after." She smiles, and Remus notices that it does not quite reach her eyes. "Be careful, and come straight home by ten. Or I'll flatten you."

He doesn't doubt it. "Thanks, Mum." He kisses her cheek, steps back and elbows Sirius.

"Thanks, Mrs Lupin." He comes forward and kisses her cheek as well, causing her to flush and laugh. Sirius has always had that effect on women; Remus has even seen a faint rush of pink across Professor McGonagall's nose after Sirius has said something particularly charming. Remus might hate him for it, if it didn't do the same bloody thing to him as well.

"Right," he says, grabbing Sirius by the arm. "Stop flirting with my mum. We're going to be late!" He hauls him out the door. "Bye, Mum!"

Once they're on the road, Sirius shakes him off, and takes his hand. "What did she give you?" he asks. Remus takes the note from his pocket and waves it in Sirius's face.

"Five pounds," he says proudly. "It's enough to get us a nice supper, if we want one."

Sirius frowns. "What's it in Galleons?" he asks. "I've never understood Muggle money."

"You would if you took Muggle Studies." Remus taps his chin with his forefinger. "I think it's... two or three Galleons. Maybe. I'm not certain - my dad could figure it. He used to be a mathemagician, once."

"He was?" Sirius is incredulous. "Wait, why's he not one now?"

Remus doesn't answer. He doesn't know the answer, though he thinks he knows, and he's not willing to tell it to Sirius yet. "Let's walk faster," he says, urging Sirius along. "We're going to miss the start."

To his credit, Sirius doesn't press. Instead, he tightens his grip on Remus's hand and allows himself to be drawn along toward the light of the village, glowing warm beyond the trees ahead.

--

The film is all right. The best part of it, Remus thinks, is sitting next to Sirius in the dark. They hold hands for a while, once the lights go out, until Sirius lets go and stretches his arms up over his head. Remus sighs and settles back, and is surprised to find Sirius's arm curled round his shoulder. It makes his stomach wriggle as if it were filled with millions of little flobberworms. He can't risk looking at Sirius, or he thinks he might burst out laughing. And that, he knows, would not be good on a first date.

He spends the first bit of _Rocky _explaining to Sirius how a Muggle film is made. He doesn't really know all the mechanics of it, but he knows enough to satisfy Sirius's curiousity. Then there's boxing and Sirius is quiet through most of it. Most.

"Oi," says Sirius in a hoarse whisper, leaning over and speaking right into Remus's ear. "Wanna snog?"

Remus tenses. "We're in _ public_," he hisses back. "I don't think it's a good idea."

Sirius pouts. "Why not?" he asks. "It's dark, nobody's looking. There isn't even anyone behind us. Who's going to see?"

"I thought you wanted to watch the film." Remus shifts a little in his seat. The thought of snogging Sirius in the dark, in public, is making it hard to sit still. "You'll miss the end of it, if we start messing about."

"S'alright," says Sirius, nuzzling Remus's ear. "Rather snog you."

"Oh-" Remus makes an exasperated sound and turns to tell Sirius to keep quiet, but he never has a chance. There's lips and Sirius is laughing, and there's a tongue in his mouth and he forgets about the film, about the room full of Muggles all around them, because he's being kissed _ again_, and it's never ever going to not surprise him, that someone wants to kiss him. That _ Sirius_ does.

They kiss until the lights go up and spring apart before anyone can see. The credits are rolling and the theatre's full of loud music. "Come on," says Sirius, standing up - with some difficulty, Remus is pleased and shocked to note - and tugging Remus to his feet. "Let's go home."

"What about supper?" says Remus. He lets Sirius lead him out of the cinema and into the warm, summer evening. He points to a small restaurant across the street. "We could go there. I've still got enough money."

"D'you really want to?" Sirius doesn't look too interested. "I mean, if you want to-"

"I do want to." Remus pulls on his hand. "Come on. This is a date, remember? We ought to do date things, and that's getting supper after the film." He doesn't know why this is so important to him, and he feels bad for insisting on it. Sirius doesn't argue though, and they make their way through the film crowd to the restaurant entrance.

"May I help you?" The girl at the front gives them an odd look, her gaze lingering a bit on Sirius.

"Two," says Remus. He's been here with his parents before, on birthdays and sometimes after church. "For dinner."

The girl raises an eyebrow. "Just two?" she asks, picking up two menus and eyeing them dubiously.

"Yeah, two," says Sirius sharply. Remus elbows him, and Sirius makes a face. The girl leads them to a table in the back, near the kitchen. She tosses their menus onto the table and disappears.

Sirius snorts as he sits down. "She was bloody rude," he says.

"Maybe she's had a rough night," says Remus, but he doesn't really believe it. He catches sight of a couple across the room. They're watching him, the woman squinting and the man looking as if he's just smelled something unpleasant. "Oh, bugger," Remus mumbles, under his breath.

"What?" Sirius looks at him, then turns round, trying to see who Remus is looking at. "What is it?"

"Nothing." Remus picks up his menu. "Just- you should try the spag bol, it's really good here." Across the restaurant, the couple who'd been staring at them have suddenly stood up. A waiter scurries over and after a hushed conversation, the couple storm out, leaving the waiter to scowl after them.

Unfortunately, Sirius has noticed. He watches them go, then turns to Remus. "What was their problem?" he asks.

Remus shrugs. "Reckon they didn't like what they got," he lies. "D'you want to split something?"

"Remus-"

"Look, it's no big deal." Remus puts the menu down and sighs. "I know them. They're wizards." He lowers his voice and leans in, so that Sirius can still hear him. "The Ministry requires us to let all the wizarding folk in the village know that there's a werewolf in the area. If this were a magical village I probably wouldn't be allowed in, but since it's Muggle they can't throw us out. So they left." He shakes his head, bemused. "As if they could catch it off their salad forks, or something."

He looks up to find Sirius's face white, his expression livid. "That's- That's just _ fucked_," spits Sirius, looking round the room murderously. "They can't- how can they do that?"

Remus shrugs. "S'just the law," he says. He wishes they could change the subject, but he knows better. Sirius isn't going to be distracted from this, and Remus knows it's as much righteous outrage as it is guilt. Because he knows that Sirius's parents are the sort of people who have caused these laws to exist in the first place.

"Excuse me."

They both look up into the fat, red face of an unpleasant-looking man. "Yes?" says Sirius, bristling for a fight.

The man looms over them. "Do your parents know where you are?" asks the man. The whole restaurant is starting to take notice of them, and Remus shrinks back in his chair. This, he realizes, was a very bad idea.

"What's it to you?" Sirius rises where Remus falls, holding himself up with all the noble grace and dignity the House of Black has bred into him. "They know where we are, and they're all right with it."

"Somehow," the man sneers, "I doubt that your parents would approve of your behaviour."

Sirius snarls. "What behaviour?" he snaps. "We were just going to have dinner. I had no idea that this was some sort of deviant activity in this part of the country. The guide book said nothing of it."

The man glares back. "Our other customers are complaining-"

"Oh, are they?" Sirius looks round, and Remus realizes that the entire place has gone dead silent. "What're they complaining about? The smell in here? S'probably all the cats you've got in the back. Best not try the chicken marsala, ladies and gents! Unless you like picking fur from your teeth!"

"Sirius!" Remus yanks on his sleeve. "Don't-"

"Come on." Sirius jumps up, grabbing Remus by the arm. "We've got better places to go than here. Don't want to be round these snotty sorts, and I'm certainly not going to eat their _ catty_ food." Before he can say anything Sirius has him by the elbow, and is ushering him through the restaurant. Remus ducks his head and stares at the floor, feeling every single pair of eyes trained on him.

He waits until they're outside and halfway out of town before he rounds on Sirius.

"What the bloody fuck is wrong with you?" he explodes. "You know, I can never go back in there now, thanks to you?"

Sirius has his hands jammed in his pockets and he's walking very quickly. "You shouldn't ever want to, anyway. Bunch of idiots in there, and your mum's a better cook, I'd wager."

Remus scampers in front of him and halts Sirius with a hand to his chest. "That's not the point! The point is that you were way out of line-"

"I was out of line?" Sirius shouts. "That fat bastard was about to throw us out!"

"He couldn't throw us out, I told you, it's a Muggle place-"

Sirius knocks his hand away. "Not because of that, Remus! He was going to throw us out because we're _ queer._"

The word seems sharper than the rest, echoing off the trees and it seems like even the crickets fall silent then.

"We're queer," Sirius says again, much quieter this time though to Remus it's just as loud. "I'm- I'm queer." His voice shakes a little, and Remus can hear him swallow hard. "I think I've always been, but I've only just figured it out." He laughs suddenly, bitterly. "Won't that be a shock to dear old Mum? 'Sorry, but the scion of the family's a shirt-lifter.' It'll be the talk of the Ladies' Pureblood Society!"

"Sirius..." Remus touches his arm. He wants to say something comforting, but he has no idea what. "I..."

Sirius grabs his wrist, pulls him forward and kisses him, a little too hard. "You're queer too," he says when he pulls away. "You're queer and I'm queer. We're poofters, and those people back there knew it. Don't you see, Moony? It's not because you're a werewolf. It's because you like _ blokes_."

Remus has never seen Sirius like this. His eyes are overbright and blazing with something Remus can't quite put a name to, but looks a lot like fear. "They... really were going to chuck us out?" he asks lamely. He hadn't thought there could be something _ else_ wrong with him, and he doesn't understand exactly why it's wrong. "Because we were together?"

"Yeah," says Sirius, and suddenly he looks very tired, and younger than he actually is. "Look, Moony - wizards aren't the only ones who've got their problems with people who are different. If it's one thing my parents got right, it's what they taught me about how the Muggles know how to _hate_." He looks at Remus. "They're not going to tell you about it in Muggle Studies, but they've got a long history of hating people, for all sorts of stupid reasons. Just like wizards. There's really no difference."

Remus's mind is reeling, and all at once he wishes he were home and in bed, in the same house as his mother and his father. He butts his forehead against Sirius's. "Let's go home," he says. "All right? Let's go home, and go to sleep."

He's not surprised when they do get home, and his parents are waiting up for him in the sitting room.

"You knew, didn't you?" he asks his mother, going over to her and climbing into her lap, though he knows he's too old for it. Sirius has gone straight upstairs. "You knew it was going to happen. That's why you wanted to go with me." He tells her what happened, what Sirius says, and when his mother begins to cry he feels sick.

"I hoped," she says, dabbing at her nose with her handkerchief and cuddling Remus close. "I hoped it wouldn't, but I was wrong. Oh, Remus - I'm so sorry."

He buries his face in her neck. "M'queer, Mum," he says, voice muffled by the collar of her dress. He breathes in deep; she smells of potatoes and talcum. "I like Sirius."

From the other side of the room, his father clears his throat. Remus lifts his head and looks at him, at how old his father looks right now, in his old dungarees and Wellies, and a faded, checkered shirt. "This isn't what I wanted for you, Remus," he says, and Remus ducks his head. He hates to disappoint his parents and he knows that he has, by being this thing they can't control, this way they won't understand. "Your life wasn't meant to be this way."

"We love you, of course," his mother is quick to say. She brushes the hair from his eyes, runs her thumbs over his cheeks where he'd wept tears without realizing. "Nothing could change that and I know you know that."

Remus nods. "I know it," he mumbles. "I'm sorry."

"Son," says his father, "you've done nothing wrong. Hell, perhaps it's something I've done." He runs a hand through his sparse, grey hair. "Maybe I ought to have been around more, when you were small. Perhaps we ought to have sent you to school instead of teaching you at home. Maybe your mum fed you too many potatoes!"

"Rhombus!" his mother exclaims. "No man was ever turned wrong by potatoes."

His father smiles weakly. "I know, I know. You're right. Remus- I don't know, son. There's nothing wrong with you, nothing at all. I don't... understand it." He hesitates, and Remus can see the mathemagician in him resurfacing, the flicker of concentration that dances across his father's lined face as he tries to work things out. "It's only going to make things harder for you, if you're- If you're this, as well."

"It's worth it," he blurts out. "I think. I really like him, Dad. He- he knows what I am, and he doesn't care. And he- He-" He isn't sure he ought to say anything more. Padfoot canters through his mind, all pink-tongued and wagging tail, and he thinks it would be so much easier to explain to his father why he loves this boy if he tells him of the dog that has led him here.

It hits him then, that he does love Sirius. It's a terrible, wonderful thing to realize and it surges up inside him, certainly turning his face pink. He bites his bottom lip and ducks his head, trying to keep it in because this isn't something for anyone else, not even Sirius. Not yet.

"He's a lovely boy," says his mother softly, jarring Remus from his private thoughts. He looks up at her and sees that four-legged secret dancing in her eyes. "I very much approve."

His father sighs. "Well," he says. "Well, I suppose that's that, then." He scratches the back of his neck. "Remus, you're a smart boy. You've done all right for yourself as a w- As a werewolf." Remus winces; his father's never been able to say the word without hesitating, and it took Remus a long time to understand that it was not his fault, that his father hesitated out of guilt, not disgust. "I'm certain you'll handle this as well."

"I can," says Remus. He slides out of his mother's lap and kisses her cheek. "And if I can't, I have Sirius." He grins. "He's a brilliant guard dog."

His mother makes a funny noise. "Oh, go to bed, you." She swats him on the rear. "And Remus?"

He pauses at the foot of the stair. "Yeah, Mum?"

"Leave your bedroom door open from now on."

Remus turns instantly scarlet and takes the steps two at a time to escape the sound of his parents' laughter.

--

The door is half-open, actually, when he gets upstairs, and the light is out. "Padfoot?" he whispers. He nudges the door open. "Padfoot- _ Oh._"

The lights are out, but there is a candle glowing. Sirius has spread a blanket across the bedroom floor and there's food laid out, obviously nicked from the larder. Bread and cheese, a bottle of wine and two glasses.

"Is it all right?" Sirius's voice is timid through the darkness. Remus catches sight of him on the other side of the blanket, crouched on the floor and looking for all the world like Padfoot after he's been caught nosing through James's trunk, in search of sweets. "I raided the kitchen while you were talking to your parents. It's all right?" Sirius fidgets. "I know it's not a proper date in a restaurant, but it wasn't your fault we left, and-"

In one swift motion Remus crosses the room and tackles Sirius backwards, sprawling over him and kissing him soundly. "It's brilliant," he says breathlessly, kissing Sirius's chin and his cheeks and anything else he can get to. He sits up, grinning. "You did this, on your own."

"Oi!" Sirius runs his hand through his hair, smoothing it out where Remus's hands have mussed it. "I can be bloody romantic! Er." He ducks his head. "I didn't know you wanted to be romanced, Moony."

Remus punches him in the leg. "M'not a bloody girl," he says. "But this is really- It's nice, Padfoot. Thanks."

"Come here," Sirius says, picking up the bread. "Let's eat, I'm starving." He nods at the wine. "Got that, too. I'll pay your parents for it. I've never had wine so I thought it'd be cool to have some with you."

"Yeah," says Remus. "I've never had it either." He uncorks the bottle and pours a bit into each glass, handing one to Sirius. "Should we, you know. Have a toast?"

Sirius frowns. "What do you toast to?" he asks. "My father always does it to 'the continuing purity of wizardkind,' or somesuch rot.'

"Well, why not to us, then?" says Remus. "To two queers and the best summer of their lives." He blushes a bit, because it sounds soppy. "Or you could come up with something better."

"No," says Sirius. "That'll do." He grins and holds up his glass. "To us."

"To us," says Remus. He taps his glass to Sirius's, and drinks. "Eyyurgh," he says, making a face. "S'worse than the whisky."

Sirius nods, gulping his down quickly. "Even more proof that my dad's full of it," he chokes. "He's always going on about wine, something to do with noses. He's daft." He sniffs at his glass and takes another sip. "It tastes like sour grapes."

"It IS grapes, you ass." Remus giggles. "Here, take some cheese, it'll help with the taste."

"Er, Moony?" Sirius sets the glass down with a thump. "I don't feel so well..."

Remus tenses. "Padfoot?" He squints at him. "You don't look- oh, hell. I can't see. Hang on." He scrambles up and puts on the light. "There, that's- Sirius!" He points. "Your face!"

Sirius's face is bright red, horrible splotches across his cheeks. "It's hard to breathe," he wheezes, staggering to his feet and pressing his hand to his chest. "Moony, I-"

Remus is shouting for his mother before Sirius hits the floor.

--

"You stupid bastard," says Remus, as soon as Sirius opens his eyes. "Are you alive?"

"No," Sirius croaks. "I'm dead." He peers blearily around the room. "Is this my funeral? Thought there'd be more people."

Remus snorts. "You're in my bed," he says, poking Sirius in the arm. "You bloody _ fainted_. At least you only hit your head, so no damage done."

"Hell of a way to speak of the dead, Moony." Sirius groans and tries to sit up. "The bloody wine was poisoned," he says. "Your parents want to kill me."

"No," says Remus, shoving him back down. "You idiot. You're allergic to wine!"

Sirius blinks. "I'm not," he says. "Blacks aren't allergic to anything."

"This one is," says Remus, sitting on the edge of his bed. "You're allergic to red wine, the doctor said. Gave you something in a needle, so you're not all blotchy anymore. You do have to stay in bed though. That's Mum's orders." He kicks his feet a bit. "It was pretty awful though. Thought you had died, and I really didn't want to owl Prongs to tell him I've killed his best mate."

"I ruined our date again," Sirius says softly. "M'sorry, Moony."

Remus shrugs. "No worries." He looks at Sirius. "D'you want anything? Mum made tea."

"No," says Sirius. He rolls over and huddles in the blankets, and Remus thinks he looks pretty pathetic. "I just want to sleep. Wish I had died. Bloody useless."

"Don't say that," says Remus. He kicks off his shoes, shucks his shirt and trousers and crawls into the bed beside him. "Here, budge over." He nudges Sirius aside and gets under the blankets. "Just because you're ill doesn't mean you get all the covers." He settles in and, after a moment, risks brushing his hand over Sirius's bare back. "All right, Padfoot?"

Sirius mumbles. "No," he says. "Ruined it."

"You didn't know." Remus inches closer. "We'll sort something out, all right? Maybe in Diagon Alley, we can do something there. We'll have to go in a few days. School owls are set to arrive on Monday."

"Mmn." Sirius squirms. "School."

Remus sighs. "Yeah. School." He doesn't want to think on it. School means that the summer's over, that he and Sirius won't be on their own anymore. As much as he'd like to see James and Peter again, he selfishly doesn't. He has no idea if this will last beyond the summer, if this is it, and his foolish notion of love will be gone by the end of the Sorting Feast. He bites his lip and squeezes his eyes shut against the lump in his throat.

"Moony?"

He doesn't trust himself to speak. "Hnn?"

Suddenly, Sirius is on him, all around him, clinging to him. "I can't wait for school," he says, burying his face in Remus's neck.

Remus winces. "You can't," he says flatly. "Yeah," says Sirius, and Remus feels a wicked smile forming against his skin. "Know why?"

"No, why?" Remus asks, though he doesn't really want to know.

"Because," says Sirius, "we'll be able to do magic again, and your mum and dad won't be downstairs listening and making me feel guilty every time I snog their ickle baby boy." Remus thumps him and Sirius lifts his head to grin at him. "And I know you're really _wicked _at Silencing Spells."

Remus bursts out laughing. "Padfoot, you're terrible," he says, and wraps his arms around Sirius and holds him, holds on tight through the close and holy darkness.


	5. Chapter 5

The Lupins were not, in fact, always English. They are now of course but in the beginning they were the Lupescu of faraway Rumania and it was Igor Lupenscu who made the long journey across the continent and over to England, in one of the single-digit centuries. Legend has it that he took with him nothing but his wand and a few potions recipes, and he made his fortune curing the ailments and fevers of the good people of Lundenwic (as it was called then). Igor found himself a nice witch and after a few thousand years the only thing left in the Lupins of the old country is the name and a mild fondness for palinka.

It isn't too far-fetched to imagine that the land beneath Rhombus Lupin's feet once belonged to old Igor himself and had been passed down in various states through the family over the centuries. Certainly Rhombus doesn't know and he doesn't really care, so long as there's a roof over his head and the heads of his wife and his boy, how old the land is. It's good land, and that's what counts.

The fact of the matter is, he hasn't always been a farmer. The Lupins were as pureblooded as you could possibly get without being a Black or a Smith, and not too long ago they'd been a very well-respected, prominent family among Wizardkind. Rhombus's father, Otto Lupin the politician, had been a key figure during the Grindelwald years and it was no secret that Albus Dumbledore had retained him as a valued advisor during the last great battle.

Otto Lupin had been a very powerful wizard in his time. Handsome, brave and terribly smart, he served as a governor for the Ministry for years. He took for his wife a lovely young witch from Edinburgh, Bernadette, whose family had been Healers going all the way back to Strathclyde. It was clear that the Lupins were everything a proper wizarding family ought to be.

Rhombus's best subject at Hogwarts had been Arithmancy, of course. His elder sister Faintly had done well in Divination and in Herbology, and it wasn't long after she left school that she moved to Italy and put her talents to good use in an Apothecary there. Rhombus was quite happy to follow his father's advice and seek an apprenticeship with Gringott's after Hogwarts. He was stationed in a small village called Nether Millstone, working in an office there. It wasn't far from a larger, Muggle city where he liked to go for the cinema, and for the restaurant where he could sit out, have a smoke and watch the pretty Muggle girls from the University walking by.

He smiles to himself, Rhombus does, leaning against his shovel for a moment and wiping his brow with his handkerchief. He has fond memories of those Muggle girls, in their skirts and scarves, but there was one that he liked watching most. She had dark hair and bright eyes, pale skin flecked with little brown freckles. He saw her every Wednesday afternoon in the restaurant, getting a coffee with her school friends, and he wondered what she might say if he ever worked up the nerve to ask her to bring that coffee to his table, and sit with him. He never did, and if it hadn't been for fate he might never have actually spoken to Mary Hogan.

"Ah, fate," he says to himself, and resumes his digging. That funfair had been a lark, his mates from the village had thought it'd be a gas to go watch the Muggles attempt to have fun, without any magic at all. He wasn't as fascinated with it as his friends were. He rather liked Muggles, thought they were interesting and really, you have to be pretty smart to get by without magic all your life. He didn't think he could manage it. Nevertheless he went along with it, hoping at least for some candy floss, and maybe some of those tumblers. He liked tumblers.

Shoveling dirt over his shoulder, Rhombus chuckles remembering his mate George Weasley, and the pretty witch he'd brought along with him to the fair. They'd decided to go on the ferris wheel and so Rhombus tagged along, thinking it might be fun. The chap running the thing had stopped him and asked if he were on his own, and then called out for another single rider to come forward so that they wouldn't miss out on the other fare. Rhombus hadn't been too pleased with that until he heard a cheerful and decidedly female voice, tinged with an Irish accent, call out from the back of the line.

Mary Hogan, that was her name. His pretty, freckled girl from the restaurant. They got in the basket and sat across from one another shyly, Mary fussing with the hem of her skirt and Rhombus wiping his forehead with his handkerchief. Introductions over, now what? He still remembers with a vivid clarity the nerves he had in him that day, sitting in a basket with such a lovely girl. And then, when the wheel began to move and he cursed aloud, surprised, she laughed.

Rhombus pauses, standing in the garden with his eyes closed. He hears that laughter in his mind and he can hear it through the kitchen window behind him, and he smiles. He knew, that day, that her laugh would follow him to the end of his days and he is glad that it has, and that it is not merely the echo of memory. She'd laughed, and they'd managed to talk a bit before she suddenly lunged across the basket and kissed him. That had shocked him, but then she'd told him she was a Catholic, as if that ought to explain everything. He'd just laughed, and kissed her some more.

"Rhom!" He looked up to see Mary waving at him through the window. "It's half-four already! Come in and get your tea, before it's cold!"

He waves back and trudges toward the house, pulling off his wellies by the back door and brushing the dirt from his trousers before going inside. Mary is at the table, scone in one hand and a pencil in the other, and she's doing the crossword in the Daily Prophet. He smiles. Not a witch, and not much interest at all in any of it, and yet she still manages to finish the crossword every bloody Thursday.

She smiles at him as he sits down across from her. "If you're hungry for a bit more, I could get together some eggs, or bacon if you want it."

"This is fine," he says, taking up his tea and muttering something quietly under his breath. The tea gives off a faint plume of steam. Mary frowns, and Rhombus laughs. "Sorry, love," he says. He takes a long drink, and sighs. "But you know I hate cold tea."

Mary snorts. "Then you can get off your arse and come get it when it's warm," is all she says, but there's no malice to it. She goes back to the crossword.

"Where are the boys?" he asks, looking round. "Have they had their tea?"

"They're up in Remus's room." Mary scratches a word in for one-across. Owl. "I said they could take their tea up there."

Rhombus nods. He still isn't too certain about this, this thing with Remus, but he has learnt a very hard lesson about having certain ideas about people who are different. He is also indulgent of his son, not because of what's happened to him but because he is their son, their only son. As much as it is a miracle that Remus has survived his life, it is a greater miracle that he has a life at all.

It wasn't long after their meeting (Rhombus blames a rather adventurous session of night-swimming in the local creek) that Mary found herself in a particularly interesting condition. Up to then she'd been a proudly lapsed Catholic, but upon hearing the doctor's pronouncement she became a devout one and told Rhombus that under no circumstances was she going to be involved in any murderous activities toward an innocent. This left Rhombus in a very sticky situation, because not only was he still an apprentice and in no position whatsoever to support a family, but he had not yet explained to Mary about his being a wizard.

"Are you going to eat that scone?"

"No, help yourself."

It was only after a long chat with his father and a large pint of Goblin courage that Rhombus got up the nerve to take Mary on a long walk, where he finally showed her his wand. (His magic wand; she'd already seen the other one and wasn't that just what got him into such a mess, going round showing innocent girls his _wand_.) Mary had listened patiently as he explain himself, and his family, and watched as he demonstrated a few basic magical spells.

"Well," she'd said afterward, "that explains the ridiculous name you've got. I ought to have known no normal person would be called Rhombus, anyway."

Rhombus asked her to marry him, on the spot.

Mary rises from the table, the crossword done. "Did you want some more tea, dear?"

"No," he says, lifting his cup to her and smiling, before downing the rest of it. "I'm finished. I've still got the rest of the garden to turn, before the sun sets."

They'd married after a bit of a row with her mother, and a few months later Rhombus was working for Gringott's properly and they had a little flat in Diagon Alley. The baby arrived on a warm July night in St Mungo's, and was dead by morning. They'd called her Frances, after Mary's elder brother who'd died in Germany during the Great War. Mary had gone quiet in those terrible days after, and Rhombus threw himself into his work so that he would not have to go home to the silence. They'd decided not to try for children again.

In the garden, Rhombus can see Remus's bedroom window. The light is on, and every few minutes a shape passes by the curtains. He can tell by the slouch when it's Sirius, by the darting movement that it's Remus. At one point, both shapes come together, and Rhombus looks away.

Remus was a surprise. He smiles to himself, remembering the look in Mary's eye when she'd come back from her Muggle doctor. It was a look he had not seen in quite some time, not in the few years after they'd lost Frances. Mary took no chances on this one, and while Rhombus was at work she would nip off to the nearest church and pray that this child would manage it, that this one would stay.

"Oi, Dad!" Rhombus looks up. Remus hangs out of his bedroom window, with Sirius at his shoulder. "Can we come out to the barn and see the piglets? Are they big enough?"

Rhombus nods. "They're old enough," he calls up to them. "Just don't handle them too much, and put them straight back if their mum gets upset."

Remus grins and disappears, and a moment later both boys come tumbling out the back door. They wave and scamper off toward the barn, and Rhombus can hear Sirius asking Remus if he's really going to hold a pig. He laughs, because the idea of a Black with a pig in his arms is really quite funny.

It was a chilly afternoon in March when Mary's waters burst, all over the kitchen floors. Remus (named for a myth Mary'd read about once - she'd thought it would be amusing along with their interesting surname) arrived shortly thereafter, thanks to the help of a Healer who lived in the flat above theirs. He'd been a lovely baby, cheerful and intelligent - walking and talking by December, knowing his letters and numbers by the following autumn. His first sign of magic had come at age three, when he inadvertently turned the cat into a pillow when it wouldn't give up its spot in the armchair. Rhombus had no doubts that his boy would bear the Lupin name well, carry it well on into the future.

The sun is setting, and Rhombus is nearly finished turning the soil. He's going to need a bath after this, and he thinks that if he plays his cards right - and if Remus and Sirius are sufficiently distracted - he might be able to convince Mary to join him. He chuckles to himself and goes about putting the tools away, locking the shovel in the shed and calling to the boys that it's nearly time for supper.

He remembers clearly the day his father died. His mother'd gone the year before, after a nasty bout of Dragonpox, and Otto had never really recovered from it. A heart attack took Otto Lupin in the early hours of a September morning, and shortly thereafter Rhombus had been transferred to a Gringott's office up north. It was not far from the land they lived on now and so after the reading of his father's will, in which Rhombus had been left nearly everything, he packed up his wife and small son and moved to Penwiper Mews. It was not far from where he and Mary had met, and they felt it would be a wonderful place for Remus to grow up. Mary was quite happy to be back on a farm, and Rhombus enjoyed a simple commute to work in nearby Lying-In-the-Way.

The sky darkens quickly, and Rhombus feels the shivering promise of rain pass through his bones. He closes up the barn and stables the two horses, looks over the sheep and throws a quick tarp over the vegetables, just in case. He thinks he hears the soft rumble of thunder in the distance, or it is a lorry on the distant highway. Either way, the sky suddenly looks threatening and he is glad to finally get inside.

Rhombus had been leaving his office when a disagreeable-looking man had approached him, if he could have been called a man. He snarled instead of spoke, and asked Rhombus about his surname. "Lupin," he'd growled. "It's a very interesting name. Rumanian in origin, I assume."

"You'd be correct," Rhombus had said. "I ask what business it is of yours."

The awful man had grinned, in a truly terrible way. "Oh, I was simply curious, you see. With a name like Lupin, one wonders if there's any meaning behind it. You know, _ Lupin_."

Rhombus had known what the man was getting at. "I beg your pardon," he'd said, drawing himself up to his full height and looking down his nose at the man. "But the name Lupin has _ nothing_ to be ashamed of. We've no questionable sorts in our family! If you'll excuse me." He'd brushed the man aside and gone down the street without looking back.

He sinks into his usual chair at the table. The thunder has arrived and the rain begins to fall. Mary brings out a stew and Remus and Sirius turn up, wriggling into their chairs and snickering about something. "Dad," says Remus, nudging him under the table. "You're staring."

"Oh." Rhombus shakes his head. "Sorry, son. A bit tired, you see." He offers him a weary smile, and picks up his fork to tuck into the stew Mary spoons onto his plate.

That night had been a terrible night. At four Remus had been very active and independent, and they thought nothing of letting him play out of doors after sundown. It'd been summer and the days longer, and Remus had a swing out under the big tree that he liked to swing on for hours on end. Rhombus often worked in the fields listening to his son's shrieks as he played.

He knew, however, the instant those shrieks had turned from joy into terror, into pain.

Greyback had followed him. The Aurors were certain it'd been him, going by Rhombus's description and tales of other attacks throughout the country, under similar circumstances. Greyback liked children and needed very little excuse to attack them. Rhombus's words of pride on the street the week before had been excuse enough, and his son lay dying in the grass as a result. Mary had taken months to forgive him afterward, months of tears and rows, threats to take Remus and go back to Ireland where no one would poke him and prod him and call him a beast. She'd nearly done it the day they'd had to take Remus to be registered, when the Healers held her baby down and etched magical numbers into his arm. Rhombus knew that the only thing that had saved their marriage was Remus himself, his refusal to die and his refusal to give in to his curse. They'd stayed together for him, and eventually enough time passed for Mary to be able to forgive him.

It was good, that she had. Because Rhombus still hasn't forgiven himself.

"Boys." Mary is scowling at them, and Sirius looks guilty. "That's enough of that."

"What?" asks Rhombus curiously.

"Nothing, Dad." Remus's face is red. "Um, may we be excused?"

They race up the stair, and Mary shakes her head. "Honestly," she says, but her mouth is smiling.

"I missed something." Rhombus picks at the remains of his stew. "Again."

"You have been odd today," says Mary. "Is something wrong, Rhom?"

Rhombus sighs. "Nothing. I don't know. I've been thinking, about us. About Remus." He looks at her sadly. "I wish I hadn't said that, to him. I should have just - I don't know. Been polite."

"Oh, Rhom." Mary gets up and comes over to sit beside him. "Please, don't start this again. You can't change the past."

"I could." He looks at her. "If I had a Time-Turner..."

For a moment, a flash of hope crosses Mary's face, but it's gone quickly. "No," she says softly. "No. We've come this far. Remus-" She sighs. "I would love to find a cure for it, you know that. But you can't change history. You just can't, no matter what you wizards have come up for it. It's not right." She chews on her thumbnail. "God meant for this. I know you think it's silly, but I believe it. God meant for this to happen. He took Frances, He gave us Remus, and then He took Oliver, because He knew Remus was going to need us most. I have to believe that, Rhom. I _ have_ to."

There are tears in Mary's eyes, and Rhombus reaches up to brush them away. "I know," he says softly. "I know." He takes her hand in his, and it's still as small as it was the day he held it first, in the basket of a ferris wheel. "I still don't know about Sirius, though- You don't know the Blacks, Mary." He wonders if he ought to show her his History of Magic book, and the bit about Tychon Black, who once cursed the rats of London to spread a disease that killed thousands upon thousands of Muggles. "You don't know how they are."

"I know one Black," she says. "And it's enough that Remus loves him. That's all I need to know about him, to know that he's all right." She leans over and gives him a kiss. "He'll be all right. The both of them."

She grins suddenly, wickedly. "You're filthy," she says, in a playful murmur. "Run along up and I'll draw us a bath."

Rhombus laughs. "Sometimes I swear you're a witch," he says, tugging at her hair. "The way you can read my mind."

--

Remus is already in his bed when Sirius returns. "Where did you go?" he asks.

Sirius looks at him. Remus looks as if he's dozed off at some point. His hair sticks up in seventeen directions.

"Toilet," Sirius lies. He shucks his clothes except for his shorts and crawls into the bed, tugging the blankets up around them both. "Listen, Moony-"

"Hmm?" Remus has snuggled back down into the pillows. The rain lashes against the window, and every few moments there's a flicker of lightning through the curtains. Remus yawns. "What, Padfoot?"

Without warning, Sirius folds himself over him, until there's no part of them that doesn't touch. Remus squeaks in surprise but doesn't protest, just looks up at Sirius and the trust in his eyes. Sirius finds it suddenly hard to breathe.

"Listen" he says again, leaning in because he's afraid to say this too loud. "Listen, Moony- I love you, all right?"

There's a silence, and the rush of blood in his ears drowns out the rain. He can feel Remus's heart - or is it his own, he can't tell - thrashing against his ribs like a frightened bird. He looks down at Remus, waiting.

The smile blooms so bright that Sirius thinks it's lightning, at first. Remus is grinning, then laughing and throwing his arms around Sirius's neck, babbling in his ear. He might be saying it back, and Sirius is going to hate himself in the morning for missing it, but it's enough that Remus is happy and Sirius has made him happy.

Then Remus is kissing him and Sirius pretty much stops thinking, except that he hopes this is enough, that loving this boy is enough to atone for his surname and all the things that creep along behind him in its shadow. He hopes its enough to take that look off Remus's father's face whenever he looks in their direction. It's doubt, or suspicion, or reluctance - but mostly, it looks like fear.

Tomorrow, Sirius thinks. Tomorrow, Remus's father will look at them and Sirius will look back, and the both of them, they'll only see hope.

By morning, it's stopped raining.


	6. Chapter 6

"Now, have you got everything?"

Remus rolls his eyes. "For the _ last time_, Mum - yes!" He hefted his rucksack. "Change of clothes, socks, pants, toothbrush. I packed last night, I _ know_ I've got everything."

His mother nods. "Did Sirius get the hamper I fixed up for you?" she asks, gnawing on her thumbnail. "Perhaps I ought to put a few extra pasties in. It's _ such_ a long drive..." She looks at his father. "Rhom, is it such a good idea to let them drive so far? Oh, I wish you hadn't left this essay so late, Remus - we could have arranged something a bit better. All the way to Orkney!"

"_Mum_," hisses Remus. "It'll be fine. We're only going so far as Edinburgh today, and then we'll go the rest tomorrow." He fidgets in place, twisting the loose strap of his rucksack around his fingers. "We have maps and I know how to use a telephone, if we get into any trouble. Which we _won't_," he adds quickly.

Remus's father scratches his chin thoughtfully. "Your mother's got the right to worry, son," he says. "You've only been driving since June. You're not even supposed to be driving." A look of worry flashes across his face. "Perhaps I oughtn't have got Arthur Weasley to do that license up for you..."

"But I had to drive!" Remus protests. "You were off in Italy with Aunt Faintly when she broke her leg, and Mum doesn't know how to drive. _ Someone_ had to get the eggs and such to the village." He gives his father a pointed look. "I'll be fine. I'm a better driver than you, even. At least I've never run over any sheep-"

"Remus!" His father turns red and laughs. "All right, all right. Take your point." He looks over Remus's head at the house. "Where's Sirius?" he asks.

"He's in the car already," Remus says, gesturing over his shoulder. Sure enough, Sirius can be seen crawling around in the Morris Minor, playing with the radio dials and poking his head beneath the seats. He pops up, spots Remus and waves, honking the horn. "I'm coming!" Remus shouts.

"Oh," says Remus's mother, gathering him up in her arms and kissing his forehead. "Oh, be careful, won't you? And you'll ring from Edinburgh? And you won't drive if you're tired, and you'll stop for the toilet every fifty miles, and-"

"Mary," says Remus's father mildly, grasping her shoulder and tugging her away from Remus, who gasps for air. "He'll be all right."

"I'll be all right, Mum," Remus wheezes. He takes the opportunity to sprint for the car, throwing open the driver's side door and shoving Sirius out of the way. "Get over," he grunts, sliding in beside him. "You can't drive, I'm driving."

"Why can't I drive?" Sirius pouts. "I've got my bike!"

Remus rolls his eyes and shuts the door. "It doesn't even have a _ motor_ yet."

"It will!" Sirius slumps in the passenger seat. "And you wait, I'll make it _ fly_."

"I won't come to get you out of Azkaban when they chuck you in for that one," mutters Remus darkly. He fastens his safety belt and wrestles Sirius to get his done, then turns and waves out the door. "Bye, Mum! Dad!"

"Bye Mum and Dad," echoes Sirius, grinning and waving from his own window.

Remus turns the key. Starts the car.

--

"I can't _ believe_ you can bloody drive," says Sirius once they're down the road a little way. He leaned back in his seat and stuck his feet up on the dash. "You never _ once_ told any of us you can bloody drive."

"I've only been driving a couple of months," says Remus. His eyes are on the road, but he's aware of Sirius beside him, all long legs and long, unkempt hair, and a Chudley Cannons t-shirt that's been cleaned so many times you can nearly read through it. "My dad's sister broke her leg, and she hasn't got anybody in Italy where she lives, so Dad went out to help her a bit." He shifts, flexing his toes in his shoes. "He got Mr Weasley to do up a Muggle license for me so I could drive while he was gone." He grins suddenly. "It says I'm seventeen!"

"What!" Sirius squawks. "You're not bloody seventeen! You won't be seventeen until March!"

Remus pops open the glove box and roots around in it, pulling out his license and chucking it at Sirius. "See for yourself," he says triumphantly.

Sirius opens the license, reads it and scowls. "You bastard," he grumbles, tossing the license back into the glove box and slamming it shut. "You ruddy, sodding bastard." He brightens for a moment. "Does it mean you can do magic now? Even though we're not in school?"

"No," says Remus. "I'm still sixteen and the Ministry knows it." He snorts. "If I could do magic, we'd be in something a lot better than a sodding Morris Minor, and no mistake." He thumps the wheel. "I've always wanted an MG."

"What's an MG?" asks Sirius, stretching out again. "How do you know about MGs?"

"I've seen 'em." Remus points at the motorway. "Watch the road. They're the little ones with the roundy ends, and the one I want hasn't got a roof."

Sirius sniffs. "No roof?" he says. "How's it keep the rain out, then?"

"It's a _cabriolet_, you ignorant git." Remus laughs. "The roof comes off if you want it to."

"Oh."

They drive on in silence for a bit, until Remus gestures wildly out the windscreen. "There!" he shouts. "That's the one, Padfoot. That's an MG."

Sirius watches a small, green, roofless car pass them by on the other side of the road. "It's nice," he says. "Looks posh."

"It's sort of posh," says Remus. "We can't get one, I know. I've been after my dad for one for ages, but we've got the Minor and it's _ perfectly acceptable_." He sighs. "I'm tired of _ acceptable_."

"Well," says Sirius, giving him a wicked grin. "Having a boyfriend isn't very acceptable of you, Mr Moony."

_ Boyfriend _. It's the first time either of them has said the word. Remus doesn't say anything for a few miles, and neither does Sirius. They sit in silence until Sirius's complete lack of an attention span kicks in, and he reaches for the Blaupunkt.

"What's this do?" he asks.

"It's a radio." Remus leaned over and flipped it on. "You use the knob- oh, stop _sniggering,_ Sirius!" Remus rolled his eyes. "You use it to change the stations."

Sirius brightens. "Like the Wireless!" he exclaims. He twirls the dial, marveling at the different sounds it makes, until he lands on a song he knows. "You sing this!" he says. "How do you make it louder?"

Remus turns up the volume and grins. "I do sing this," Remus says. He rolls the window down and leans his elbow out of it. "This is one of my favourite songs."

_Don't let me hear you say that_

_ Life's taking you nowhere _

It's rare that Remus sings. He can carry a tune but his voice is plain, not like his mother's sweet soprano or his father's even baritone. When he does sing it's only ever along with the radio, or when no one is home, or around Sirius. Sirius can't carry a tune in a bucket, and that makes Remus feel better.

"Moony!" Sirius cries, pointing out the window. "Look! What's that?"

Remus looks. "It's a coach, Padfoot. Muggles, probably tourists on holiday."

Sirius hangs out his window, shouting and waving at the Muggles. Most of them are older women, and they titter amongst themselves and wave back at him. "This is _ brilliant_!" Sirius says, keeping his head out of the window. A moment later and he's Padfoot, tongue and ears flapping in the wind like banners.

"_Sirius_" Remus laughs. "You stupid git." The song ends, and Remus changes the station until he finds something else that he knows.

_And I wanna be anarchy _

_No dogsbody _

_Anarchy for the U.K_

--

They meet traffic after about an hour of driving, and suddenly Remus wrinkles his nose and rolls up his window. Sirius changes back, makes a face. "What's that _ smell_?" he asks.

"Manchester," says Remus.

By the time they clear the outskirts of the city, Sirius has already got into the hamper Remus's mother had packed them. "Want a sandwich?" He pokes one under Remus's nose. "It's ham, I think."

"Yeah." Remus takes one. Ham and cheese. There's bottles of Butterbeer as well, but Remus balks and asks instead for the flask of pumpkin juice. "Wouldn't do to be stopped," he tells Sirius, "and smell of liquor."

"There's hardly anyin Butterbeer," Sirius says. "It's not like she put _Firewhiskey _in there, Remus."

"Still." Remus turns on the indicator to changes lanes and overtake a particularly slow lorry. "I told Dad I'd be careful."

Sirius watches him for a moment. "You're a good driver, Moony," he says, around a mouthful of sandwich.

Remus smiles.

--

_You've got a real type of thing going down_

_ Getting' down_

_ There's a whole lot of rhythm going round_

--

They reach Edinburgh after sunset. Sirius has gone to Padfoot again, and is dozing in the backseat. Remus is tired; his legs ache and his neck is stiff. He follows the directions his mother had written out for him, to a small inn run by a woman she knows. When they arrive, he parks and gently wakes Sirius.

"Padfoot," he murmurs. "Come on, we're stopping for the night."

"Mrr." The dog kicks and changes, and Sirius gnaws on Remus's hand. "Five more minutes."

They stagger up the steps with their rucksacks. The woman is called Clodagh, and she's very plump and friendly. She puts them up in a room with two beds. Sirius immediately occupies the bath, leaving Remus to peel off his clothes, drop them in a pile on the floor and collapse into the first bed he falls into.

Not much later, he's suddenly covered in wet, wriggly boy. Sirius. "Mmf," mumbles Remus, shoving at him. His hand slips, and he opens his eyes.

Sirius is naked.

"Hi," he says, grinning. Remus blinks at him. "I forgot pyjamas."

"Sirius." Remus feigns annoyance, but inside his stomach is churning. He's had in his head the thing that Sirius had told him the other night. _He loves me. _He'd thought about it during breakfast, while doing chores, while cleaning his teeth. He _ i definitely /i _ thought about it in the bath, his hand tucked between his legs and his face burning. _He loves me. Sirius loves me and I think I love him and he loves me._

Remus squirms and shoves Sirius aside. He starts to ask if Sirius wants to borrow a set of pants, or something, but the words die in his throat. Sirius is _naked _, in his _bed_, and they are _alone_. His parents aren't downstairs. They're in a room _hundreds _of miles away. And Sirius is _naked_.

"That's okay," he says, flushing pink when his voice comes out rough, and lower than normal. "It's too hot for pyjamas."

"_You're _wearing them," says Sirius pointedly. Remus looks down. He's wearing his shorts and vest, because he hadn't managed to get them off before collapsing. But he's not tired anymore. He's wide awake.

"Yeah," he says slowly. He toys with the hem of his vest. "Well." He takes a deep breath, and tugs it up over his head, dropping it to the floor beside the bed. He doesn't look at Sirius. "Shorts too, I reckon?" he asks, though it's not really a question. He scratches his belly and glances at Sirius.

Sirius is staring. "Yeah," he says hoarsely. "If you want."

"Yeah." Remus swallows hard, and pulls off his shorts. He keeps his legs together, but it's pointless. He's naked, and he's hard. He sees Sirius looking at him and his ears burn. "Um."

They lay there in silence for a moment, just looking. Remus can only glance at Sirius's cock before he has to look away, a nervous smile playing at his lips. Sirius snickers.

"What!" Remus exclaims. "What's so funny?" He starts to laugh, he can't help it. He's so nervous he's shaking, and the laughter just bubbles out of him. "What? You've seen me hundreds of times!"

"Not like that though," says Sirius, though Remus can barely understand him through all the giggling. "This is- this is-" Sirius can't even finish his sentence, he's overcome with hysterics. Remus smacks him giddily.

"Wanker!" he shouts, picking up a pillow and promptly clobbering Sirius over the head with it. There's a roar of outrage, and Remus is tackled into the bed. Sirius moves to straddle him, as he usually does during their scuffles, but playful suddenly turns into something else entirely when their cocks come into contact. Sirius gasps.

"Oh." He doubles over, squeezing his eyes shut and gripping Remus's hands tightly. "Oh, _fuck_."

Remus bucks up against him. "Do that- do it _again_." Sirius moves, and Remus's eyes roll back in his head. "Bloody- _oh_."

His own hand has never felt this good. Sirius's cock passes over his belly and leaves a cool, wet trail behind. Remus reaches down and tries to grasp it, catching Sirius in his hand and squeezing. Sirius yells.

"Fuck!" He bows his head. "Moony- _Moony_" He keens, as if it's painful. Remus lets go.

"Sorry!"

"No!" Sirius reaches down and grabs Remus's hand, trying to put it back where it was. "Do it again! That was- it was good!"

Remus does, this time pressing Sirius's cock up against his own. He moans. "Pad- Padfoot." He gets his hand around both and strokes. It's dry, and uncomfortable. "Bugger-"

"We need-" Sirius opens his eyes and looks round wildly. "We need something-"

"What?"

"Hang on." With some effort, Sirius rolls off of him and waddles into the bath. Remus almost laughs, but the ache between his legs is too distracting. He reaches down and plays with himself, closing his eyes and laying back on the pillow.

"Stop," says Sirius, returning suddenly with a bottle of something in his hand. "I found this. It's hand cream or something." He climbs back into the bed. "Hold out your hand."

Remus obliges, and Sirius squirts a liberal amount of the cream into his palm. It's cold, and Remus winces when he wraps his hand around his cock again, but after a moment everything is slick and warm, and it's loads better than before. "_Oh_," he breathes. "You're a genius."

"I've been wanking longer'n you," grins Sirius. He moves to straddle Remus again. "Do what you did before," he says urgently.

"Okay." Remus grasps their cocks, and he realizes the reason Sirius asks him to is because his hands are bigger, and he can hold both of them at once. He strokes and moans - the hand cream makes it easier, and he's able to roll their foreskins down. The heads of their cocks rub together, and Remus thinks his heart might stop.

"Bloody _fuck_," he cries. Remus rarely curses but he's too far gone to care.

"More," gasps Sirius, thrusting forward. Remus works his hand up and down, too nervous to get any kind of rhythm going. His arm hurts, he's shaking, and _nothing's _ever felt this good.

Sirius lurches forward and kisses him.

Remus parts his lips and Sirius's tongue slides into his mouth, and he sighs. They've been kissing this way for days now but it always feels new every time they do it. The slick slide of their cocks together and the slow, wet tangle of tongue is all Remus needs. He comes with a grunt, all over his hand and he thinks there's more than usual until he realizes Sirius is coming, too.

When it's over he collapses backward, pulling Sirius with him. He's being somewhat squashed but he's too tired to care. He eases his hand out from between their bellies and squints at it, makes a face and wipes it on the linens.

"Pa'foot," he mumbles. "Pa'foot."

Sirius groans. "Hmm?"

Remus nudges him. "Gerroff," he says. "We're- We made a mess." It's cold and sticky now, and there's an embarrassing sound when they part. He winces at his stomach. "Gross."

"Yeah." Sirius uses the sheet to clean up. "They're gonna know," he says. "When they clean the room, they'll _know_."

Remus blanches. "She's friends with my _mum_. She might tell her." He looks around. "We can't just take them. Maybe we could wash them in the bath..."

"They wouldn't dry before tomorrow, and it'd look pretty suspicious to have wet linens all over." Sirius sighs. "Only one thing for it, then." He eases off the bed and pads over to his rucksack, producing his wand.

"Sirius!" Remus yelps. "You _can't_, you're not allowed!"

Sirius gives him a look. "I know that," he says. "But what else are we gonna do?"

"_You _can't use magic," says Remus. "Go on, put your wand back. I'll think of something."

"Fine." Sirius turns and sticks his wand back in his bag. Remus uses the opportunity to scramble off the bed and grab his own. He flicks it at the linens.

"_Scourgify_!" The bed is instantly clean and made. Sirius whirls around.

"Remus!" he exclaims. "You said no magic!"

Remus drops his wand back into the bag. "I said _you _couldn't use magic. You've done enough illegal magic for me, Padfoot." He smiles. "I can afford to get a warning from the Ministry. You probably haven't got any left."

Sirius snorts. "You're an idiot," he says, good-naturedly. He crawls back into the bed, looks pointedly at the other one. "Are you sleeping over there?" he asks, and Remus can hear the uncertainty in his voice.

"Here," he says. "I'll do this." He moves the bed over until it's pressed up against Sirius's. "If we sleep across them both, nobody'll fall through."

"Moony!" Sirius tugs him down onto the beds. "You're brilliant!" He kisses him, and Remus happily kisses back. He thinks he likes kissing best, though what they've just done is definitely up there. They settle in and Sirius draws the blankets up around them, and Remus is so tired that he doesn't even manage to say goodnight before he's asleep, curled up against Sirius with his fingers tangled in his hair.


	7. Chapter 7

Five minutes later, or what seems like, Remus awakens to soft chanting in his ear.

"Mooooooony." Sirius's breath tickles his neck. "_Mooooooony_. Wakey wakey, Mooooooooony."

For a moment, Remus thinks he's back at Hogwarts. He grunts, and burrows deeper beneath the blankets. "Go 'way," he mumbles. "Five more minutes."

The blankets are cruelly pulled away. "Nope!" says Sirius. "Up and at 'em, Lupin! We've got to get going!"

Remus opens his eyes and sits up. "What's the time?" he asks. "It can't be morning, we've just gone to sleep..."

"It's half-nine," says Sirius. He is out of bed, his hair sticking up comically. "You were supposed to ring your mum..."

"_Bugger_!" Remus vaults out of the bed and casts about for his rucksack. He pulls out a shirt and shorts and tugs them on. "She's probably worked herself into a state," he says. "I'll be back."

He finds a telephone box in the hall. His mother isn't amused that he's thirty minutes late in checking in, but she's forgiving when he tells her he was quite tired the night before. It all comes back to him, what he and Sirius had got up to, and it's all he can do to concentrate on what his mother is saying.

"And this owl arrived this morning, Remus." Her voice was scolding. "You know better than to perform magic outside of school! Honestly, I expected better from you, and-"

"Mum!" he shouts, interrupting her. "_Mum_, we're fine, and we've got to go If we're going to make the ferry. I'll ring you tomorrow, Mum. Got to go! 'Bye!" He hangs up and takes a moment to feel guilty before letting himself out of the box and going back up to the room.

He finds Sirius in the bath, having a shower. "Er," he says, poking his head round the door. "Do you mind? I've got to, er..."

Sirius pushes aside the curtain and grins. "Don't let me stop you," he says. He has soap in his hair. "You going to wash up?"

Remus fidgets. "Close the bloody curtain!" he says. "I can't when you're _looking_!"

"Sorry!" Sirius ducks back in and the curtain slides shut. "Namby-pamby," he adds with a snicker. Remus ignores him and goes about his business, feeling utterly ridiculous. He washes his hands, and splashes his face, since he's not going to get a chance to have a shower now.

The curtain suddenly slides open again. "Well?" asks Sirius. "You coming in or what?"

"What?" Remus looks at him. "You're joking. We won't both of us fit in there!"

"You will!" says Sirius. "It'll be cozy. Come _on_, Moony. I'll do your back, you can do mine. You can't not have a shower."

Remus hedges. "Well..." It's tempting, because Sirius is wet and naked again, and he's beginning to think that perhaps Sirius ought to be wet and naked more often. His body agrees, and Sirius laughs.

"Come on," he says, moving aside and holding the curtain open invitingly. "Come on in, Lupin. The water's fine!"

"All right," Remus says. He sheds his vest and pants and steps quickly into the shower, mindful of the water and the heat, and Sirius. There really isn't enough room for two people, especially two tall boys who are mostly arms and legs. There's some jockeying for position, until they settle on Remus in the water, with his back to Sirius.

"Hand me the flannel," says Sirius. Remus obliges, and Sirius begins to wash his back. "Good?"

"Yeah," says Remus. It's actually quite lovely to have Sirius's slippery hands against his back, but then he shifts and there it is, hot and hard and heavy, poking against Remus's backside. "Er, sorry." His face burns.

"No worries." Sirius's hands slide lower, the flannel passing over the small of his back, the curve of his backside. "Turn round," murmurs Sirius. "Got to rinse you."

Remus turns, and the moment they're face to face Sirius kisses him. He tastes minty, like toothpaste, and Remus sighs and drapes his arms up round Sirius's shoulders. He feels impossibly old right now, grown-up, having a snog in his morning shower. With his boyfriend, he thinks, and he giggles suddenly.

"What?" asks Sirius. Remus pulls back and shakes his head.

"Nothing," he says. "This is brilliant."

Sirius grins. "Yeah. I could make it better, though," he says softly.

"How?" Remus asks, though he thinks he knows and at once, his heart beats a little faster. "Sirius?"

"Hang on." Sirius leans in and licks at the water dripping from Remus's chin, before fastening his mouth to his throat. He kisses and sucks at the skin, moving along over Remus's pulse to the soft spot where his neck and shoulder meet.

"Mm, Sirius." Remus tilts his head back, giving Sirius better access. He lets his hands fall to Sirius's waist and rest there, lightly, his thumbs moving in little circles over wet skin. Sirius kisses a path along Remus's shoulder, then ducks down suddenly and laps at one of his nipples.

Remus shouts, and Sirius reaches up and claps a hand over his mouth, sniggering. "Shush," he says. His mouth returns to Remus's chest, and he licks and sucks at his nipples. Remus had had no idea that it could feel so good, to have someone do that. He'd messed about with them before, and it had felt nice, but this - this was brilliant. He closes his eyes and licks at Sirius's hand.

"Mmh." Sirius's mouth disappears and there's a thumping sound, and Sirius's hand comes away from Remus's face. He looks down and his breath catches in his throat - Sirius is kneeling in front of him, looking at him.

"Padfoot?" he asks nervously. Sirius looks up and despite a wicked little grin, Remus can see the apprehension in his eyes.

"Never done this," he says, and his voice is oddly low in a way Remus hasn't heard before. "I've seen- I know girls do it, I've seen magazines. Reckon I ought to try since- Well, you know." He licks his lips, and his gaze falls to Remus's cock. "You got to tell me if I'm doing it right, Moony."

"Doing- oh." Remus gulps. "You don't-"

"I said, shush," says Sirius. He wraps his hand around Remus's cock, and Remus immediately thrusts into it. "Moony, be still." He gives him a little squeeze. Remus gasps, and it's all he can to not to move again. He stares down at Sirius and wonders how anyone can be so good-looking kneeling on the floor of a too-small shower with his hair plastered to his head.

"Sirius-"

Sirius leans forward and gives the end of Remus's cock an experimental lick.

"_Fuck_." Remus slams his open hand against the wall of the shower, in an effort not to buck forward into Sirius's mouth. "Oh," he gasps, "oh, do it _again_. Do it again, Padfoot- _Please_." The words pour out of his mouth, and he can't even be bothered to feel embarrassed by them. "Please, Padfoot!"

"Moony..." Sirius sounds slightly awed. He doesn't say anything else, instead he ducks his head and licks at Remus again, as if Remus's cock were an ice lolly or something. Remus squints at him, barely able to keep his eyes open as Sirius eases back his foreskin and pokes his tongue against the head. It's unbelievable, how good it feels.

Remus reaches down and touches Sirius's hair, tangling his fingers in it. He wants to close his eyes and give in to the feeling of a mouth on his cock, of Sirius's mouth on his cock, but he can't stop staring. He didn't know they would do this with each other, that boys would want to do this to other boys. Sirius has a look of concentration on his face that he's rarely seen before, usually only when Sirius is determined to beat James in a chess match, or when he's working up a particularly complex prank.

He looks determined. Remus can scarcely breathe.

Suddenly Sirius presses forward, sliding Remus's cock into his mouth. He can only fit the head, but his tongue keeps moving in circles, and what Sirius can't get into his mouth he's got his hand around. Remus shakes and his eyes squeeze shut, and he comes without warning. His body curls over Sirius, jerking slightly, and he hears Sirius sputter and cough. He can't speak, his voice is caught in his throat along with his breath and he thinks his heart. He's never come so hard before and for a brief, ridiculous second, he thinks he's going to die.

He doesn't die, of course. He comes back to himself slowly, the sound of the shower roaring along with the blood in his ears, and with some effort he opens his eyes. Sirius is spitting into the water at their feet and wiping his face.

"Padfoot?" he ventures. His voice is hoarse. "I'm sorry-"

"What?" Sirius looks up, then rises, wincing a bit when one of his knees pops in protest. "Oh, shut _up_, Moony. That was the sodding point of it, wasn't it?"

"I didn't warn you," says Remus sheepishly. "I should've, you know. At least!"

Sirius grins. "You didn't know, did you?" he asks. He nudges Remus aside and leans into the water with his mouth open, taking a long drink and swishing it around in his mouth before spitting it out. "It tasted a bit off," he explains. "There was a lot of it, Moony!" He looks a bit chuffed. Remus laughs lightly.

"I thought I was going to die," he says. "I thought, they're going to find me in here dead, with your mouth on my- er." He ducks his head, suddenly shy. Sirius snickers.

"On your what, Moony?" Sirius nudges him. "Eh? On your _what_, now?"

"Shut up." Remus pokes him. "You know!"

"I _don't _know!" Sirius says happily. "I've no idea what I was sucking on! You ought to tell me! It's only common courtesy you know, to tell a bloke what he's got in his mouth." He grins maniacally. "You can't even say it, can you? You big girl's blouse."

"Fine!" Remus scowls. "You had my- my willy in your mouth." He knows it's a mistake the moment he says it, but it's too late. Sirius doubles over laughing. Remus thumps him on the back. "Shut up!"

"Oh-" Sirius gasps. "I cannot believe you still call it a- a _willy_!" He howls, leaning against Remus and cackling. "God, you're brilliant, Moony. You're _brilliant_."

"If you don't shut up," says Remus darkly, "I won't do it to you, so."

Sirius looks up sharply. "You- would you?" he asks, eyes wide. "You would do?"

Remus swallows hard, but nods. The idea of it makes him nervous but he hates being laughed at, and he suddenly wants very much to prove to Sirius that he's very bit as savvy as Sirius is. It can't be that difficult, he reasons. Sirius had never done before, and it'd felt bloody amazing. Remus lifts his chin a little and stares at Sirius in defiance.

"Switch places with me," he says. "So I don't drown."

Sirius scrambles, nearly toppling them both over, and Remus suddenly finds himself being turned round until Sirius has his back to the water. Licking his lips, Remus drops to his knees a bit too quickly, hitting the shower floor with a painful thump.

"All right, Moony?" Sirius asks, looking down at him and reaching a hand out, to touch his hair. "That sounded like it hurt."

"I'm fine," says Remus. His knees will be sore later, but he's not about to back out now. Sirius is hard, his cock bobbing out in front of him. It's longer than Remus's, but Remus's is thicker. "Um." He licks his lips again and realizes he's not certain what he's supposed to do first.

"You don't have to," says Sirius from above, but there's an edge to his voice that Remus knows means that he wants him to. Remus curls his fingers around Sirius's cock, remembering how warm and heavy it had felt the night before. Sirius inhales sharply and Remus quickly presses his free hand to Sirius's hip, to keep him steady before he leans in, and licks. Sirius moans.

It's not bad. Sirius tastes salty and slightly metallic, but mostly it's just the water from the shower. He laps at the very tip, the way Sirius had done, and moves his hand, sliding it back and forth along the length of it. Overhead, Sirius makes encouraging noises, the hand he has in Remus's hair petting him gently. Remus decides that it's rather nice altogether, as he takes Sirius into his mouth and, mimicking what Sirius had done earlier, begins to suck.

His mouth is almost immediately flooded with something slick and bitter, and he pulls off gagging. He spits it ought, only to have more splatter against his chin. He keeps his hand on Sirius, keeps stroking, but makes sure to lean back until Sirius is completely spent and sagging against the shower wall.

"_God_," says Sirius weakly. "Moony, that-" He looks down. "Oh, it's in your _hair_," he says. "Sorry."

Remus winces and gets up. "Move over," he says, ducking under the water to wash his hair and rinse out his mouth. "You weren't joking," he sputters, spitting water everywhere, "about it tasting off."

"Yeah." Sirius nods. "It's a bit gross."

"Maybe you get used to it?" Remus ventures hopefully. Sirius grins.

"Reckon we'll find out," he says softly.

"Yeah," says Remus. He smiles to himself. "Reckon so."

--

Clodagh feeds them breakfast before they go. Remus sends Sirius out to the car with their bags, while he settles the bill. He leaves the inn - with another hamper of food from Clodagh, and he wonders what it is about adults and their need to constantly feed someone - and goes looking for Sirius in the car park. He can't find him.

He also can't find the _car_.

"Moony! Over here!"

Remus turns round and nearly drops the hamper. Sirius is waving at him from the passenger seat of a bright red cabriolet car and grinning from ear to ear.

"Sirius!" Remus rushes over. "Get out of there this _instant_! That's not our car! You could be _arrested_!"

Sirius snorts. "It's all right, Moony," he says. "This _is _our car, actually. Don't you like it! It's just like the one you showed me yesterday, though I like this colour better."

Remus gapes. "Sirius..." He looks over the car, and indeed it is exactly like the MG Remus had pointed out on the motorway. "What did you _do_?"

"I haven't actually done any magic outside school," says Sirius, twirling his wand in one hand. "They won't chuck me out for Transfiguring something, and I don't care if my parents get an owl about me. I don't have to go back there until next June." He grins. "You like it, Moony?"

"Padfoot..." He knows he ought to protest, that he ought to demand that Sirius turn the car back at once, but he can't bring himself to say it. Sirius looks so pleased with himself, and he seems so eager for Remus's approval, that all he can do is smile.

"At least," he says, putting the hamper in the back and sliding into the driver's seat, "you remembered to put the top down."

Sirius laughs delightedly and puts on the radio.

--

_There's a feeling I get_

_ When I look to the west, _

_And my spirit is crying for leaving. _

_In my thoughts I have seen_

_ Rings of smoke through the trees, _

_And the voices of those who standing looking. _

_Ooh, it makes me wonder, _

_Ooh, it really makes me wonder_

--

The rest of the trip is brilliant, in the new car. They arrive in Scrabster a few hours later, and from there it's just a ferry trip to the Orkney Islands. They spot the Ring of Brodgar almost immediately, and Remus pulls his notebook and pencil - mindful of the Muggle tourists around them, out of his rucksack.

"You should go and look around," he tells Sirius. "Just don't go too far."

"What're you going to do?" Sirius asks.

Remus holds up the notebook. "I'm going to go get in on one of those tours," he explains. "I can get all the information I need for that essay pretty quickly if I do a tour. We've got to get back to Scrabster before the last ferry goes, or we'll be stuck here all night."

Sirius nods. "I'll go with you," he says. "I don't want to just sit round and wait."

"Suit yourself." Remus shrugs. "You'll just be bored."

The tour consists of a dozen Muggle tourists, mostly Americans, and a young woman as their guide. Remus and Sirius hang back behind the group, following them round the ring as the guide describes the stones and their origins. Remus took notes, but kept an eye on Sirius who was being oddly quiet and attentive to the guide's words.

At the end of it the crowd disperses, and Remus closes his notebook and tucks it back into his bag. "All right," he says. They are stretched out on the grass, in the shadow of one of the tall stones. "That's done, then. I really oughtn't have left this essay for so long, but I didn't know Professor Wiglorn wanted this particular monument in her essay." He rolls his eyes and tucks his arms behind his head and looks up at the clouds. "Sometimes I wonder why I'm even _taking _Muggle studies. This was a bit of a ridiculous assignment - the Muggles obviously had it all wrong, if they thought magic came from rings of stones stuck in the ground-"

Remus pauses. Sirius doesn't seem to be listening. He's staring up at the stone with an odd look on his face. Remus thinks it looks something like awe.

"Maybe they didn't," says Sirius suddenly, and Remus realizes that Sirius had been listening to him the entire time. "You said the Muggles have got their own sort of magic. Maybe it's just not as obvious as ours is." He looks at Remus, the sea wind whipping his hair about like a curtain, or a veil. "Muggles don't wave wands around but they have lights that turn on and off with switches, and they get around in huge metal things that shouldn't fly, but they _ i do /i _."

"That's true." Remus smiles. "Padfoot, you sound almost thoughtful about the Muggles."

Sirius frowns. "I'm _not _like my parents," he says urgently. "I know Muggles aren't all bad, and I know they're not as stupid as everyone seems to think they are." He looks round at the monument. "Maybe they _ i did /i _ get something from this. How do we know, it was bloody thousands of years ago that they stuck all these stones up. That's before _Hogwarts _even."

He looks at Remus suddenly, eyes bright. "I never told anybody this, but I thought maybe Muggles and us wizards weren't that far apart. Maybe everybody was magic back then, and the Muggles are the ones who just- They just forgot they were magic." He shrugs. "Probably doesn't make any sense..." Sirius says softly.

"It does." Remus glances round quickly to make certain that no one is paying attention to them, then moves to snuggle up against Sirius. "It's a nice thought, I wish more people thought it. Maybe there wouldn't be- you know, that fuss in the Prophet, people being hassled for being Muggleborn or half-blooded."

Sirius loops an arm around him. "If anybody hassles you, I'll turn 'em into _weasels_," he says darkly. "I promise."

"I know you will, Pads." Remus kisses his cheek. "I know. Come on," he says, sitting up and taking Sirius's hand. "We've got to get the ferry."

--

_And I love_

_ The things that you do_

_ You're my best friend _

_Ooo, you make me live._

_ I'm happy, happy at home _

_You're my best friend_

--

Remus's mother greets them a day later with ice pops and embarrassing kisses. "Was it fun, lads?" she asks, leaning against the kitchen counter and grinning at them.

"Yeah," says Remus, glancing at Sirius and looking quickly away before he starts to blush. "It was all right."

"Did you get what you needed?"

This time he does blush, and behind him at the table Sirius sniggers around his ice pop. Before he can answer however, there is a shout from outside.

_"Remus, what the bloody hell happened to the car?"_


	8. Chapter 8

The owls come before breakfast. Sirius reads his at the table, half a rasher of bacon hanging from his mouth. Wordlessly Remus reaches over and snaps it off.

"Oi!" Sirius yelps.

"Not like you were eating it," Remus says evenly. He pops the bacon into his mouth, and reaches for his own letter. Remus's mother sets a plate of eggs on the table and sits across from them, smiling.

"Time for Diagon Alley again?" she asks, fixing herself a plate. She motions to Sirius to take some eggs, and he does. No one makes eggs like Mrs Lupin; he'll miss her cooking when they're back at Hogwarts. "Reckon I'd better send your father along. So there won't be any more owls from the Ministry?" Her voice is stern, and slightly snide.

Sirius ducks his head, and in the next chair Remus squirms a little. A Howler had arrived for Sirius from his mother shortly after they'd got back from Scotland - there were still scorchmarks on the ceiling in the foyer. Remus had got a lecture from both his parents about respecting the law and not calling too much attention to himself. "Attention you can't afford," Mr Lupin had said. Sirius feels worse about that than he does about the Howler, which was fairly typical of his mother.

Actually, he thinks Mrs Lupin has been kinder to him since. She hadn't been in the room to hear it, but as with all of Sirius's mother's Howlers, you only need to be in the same county in order to know what's in them.

"I said I was sorry," Remus says petulantly. His mother says nothing. Mr Lupin comes in dressed in regular trousers and a shirt, and it seems as if it's been decided already that they are to be chaperoned.

Sirius sighs, and finishes his eggs. "May I be excused?" he asks politely. Mrs Lupin smiles at him and nods, and Sirius escapes upstairs to Remus's room.

He wants to make it up to him. Sirius can tell how much it bothers Remus that he's lost a bit of his parents' trust. He's never seen a family like the Lupins; his father and mother talk to him as if he isn't just their son but their friend as well. They joke and laugh, and when they row it's not loud and full of curses and hexes, and no one's left bleeding in the end. Their arguments are quiet, and more like discussions. They make Sirius think of being in Dumbledore's office.

He sits on Remus's bed and stares at the floor. Remus's bedroom tilts slightly, with the natural lean of the old house. The carpet is dingy and worn in some places. Sirius rubs at a spot with his toe. His own bedroom is full of rich things - tapestries on the wall, thick linens on a grand four-poster bed that is nothing like Remus's rickety, threadbare thing.

It's funny, he thinks, how he comes from something, how he has all that a boy his age could want, and he is still completely jealous of a family that has nothing but each another. He feels empty by comparison.

Sirius sighs, and lays back on the bed to stare up at the ceiling. He has to make it up to Remus somehow, getting him into trouble like that.

But what can he get the boy who has everything?

--

Diagon Alley is crowded, as usual after owls arrive. There are new, frightened faces mixed in with the familiar. Remus bumps into Lily Evans in Flourish & Blotts and Sirius leaves them to natter about whatever it is prefects talk about. Mr Lupin is with them, but is being rather lenient in spite of his wife's instructions. He merely nods at Sirius when he asks if he can go up the alley a bit.

He knows he won't see James; the Potters are still in Corfu and won't be back for another two days. Sirius wanders along the shops, hands stuck in his pockets. He peers into the window of the Apothecary and contemplates picking up a few ingredients he'd read would make spectacular fireworks when slipped into a goblet of pumpkin juice. He snickers, and imagines old Snivellus with a conk full of sparklers during the Sorting Feast.

No, he tells himself, shaking his head. He's got to find something for Remus. There are books of course, but Remus has so many books he thinks they could make a house of them. He chuckles to himself, earning an odd look from a gaggle of passing witches, which he ignores. Remus in a house of books is a pretty funny mental image.

When he comes to the Magical Menagerie he stops. Remus has an owl, but he often comments on other people's animals. Frank Longbottom has a rabbit called Barnabus and Remus frequently nicks carrots from dinner for it. And Lily Evans has that wretched cat with the squashed face that likes to sleep on Remus's feet when he's studying in the common room. Sirius grins. A pet, he thinks. That's what he can get Remus.

The Magical Menagerie smells. Sirius nose is more sensitive since he's become an Animagus, and he has to cover it when he walks in. He looks round at the many cages piled all over, full of acrobatic rats and mice, yowling cats and owls giving him the hairy eyeball. He pauses at a tank that doesn't seem to have anything in it, peering in and nearly getting his nose snapped off by a turtle. He backs away quickly and continues on through the shop.

Remus likes animals, all animals. The tiny piglet his father had rescued is something of a house pet now, often napping in front of the fire in the evenings. Sirius thinks he could pick something at random and bring it to Remus and it'd be all right, but he wants something interesting. Something special, he thinks, feeling slightly ridiculous about it. Remus isn't a girl, it isn't as if this has to mean something.

Nevertheless, it does.

He'd called himself Remus's boyfriend on the trip to Scotland. It still feels a bit funny even just to think it. _Boyfriend_. It really oughn't be so odd, because he was certain to end up _ i someone's /i _ boyfriend at some point, being a boy. He just hasn't expected that someone to be another boy.

Sirius is queer. There's no getting around it anymore, he thinks, poking his fingers into a fox's cage. He's queer because he's done things with Remus, the sort of things he's only ever thought about late at night, in the bath or in his bed with the curtains spelled shut. He'll never be not-queer and he doesn't much care. It doesn't feel odd, knowing it. He's still himself, still an arrogant berk and still the best prankster Hogwarts has ever seen (James Potter included). He just happens to be this, too. Kind of like the way Remus is a prefect and a swot, and a werewolf.

Sirius turns and squints into a dark corner of the shop, and spots a cag. He peers into it, frowning. There's definitely something in it, making a very soft sound he can barely make out, a noise like a mouse might make. He opens the cage and pokes his hand inside, hoping he won't lose a finger. He touches something very, very soft, and very small. Closing his hand around it, Sirius draws it out and holds it up.

It's a tiny kitten.

"Hello," he murmurs to it. It's a sad-looking little thing, scruffy and undercooked. It will never be a large cat, and its fur looks as if someone had thrown it all together without looking. Sirius has never anything so pathetic, and something in his chest gives a painful twist.

It looks at him and miaows, pitifully.

"It's okay," he whispers. "It's okay. I've got you. You're okay."

He curls his other hand over the thing, rubbing his thumb between its ears. It fits in the palm of his hand - how can something be so _small_? He wonders if it has eaten, where its mother is. There's a sinking feeling inside Sirius that this wretched little creature has been forgotten.

Sirius looks round for a shopkeeper and catches the eye of the short, round witch cleaning the snake tanks.

"Oi," he says, holding up the kitten. "How much?"

--

Sirius trudges through Diagon Alley, hands clasped at his chest, scowling so that people scamper out of his way. He finds Remus in front of Quality Quidditch Supplies, gazing absently at the latest broomsticks. He turns and, spotting Sirius, gives a wave.

"Oi, Padfoot!" he says with a grin. "I thought I'd find you- er." He frowns, and points at Sirius's hands. "What've you got, there?"

"Um." Sirius bites at his lower lips, and thrusts out his hands, opening them to reveal the tiny kitten. He looks at Remus sheepishly.

Remus stares. "Oh," he says softly. "It's- where did you find it?"

"The Menagerie," says Sirius. "I was- I wanted to get you a present." He glances around quickly, and lowers his voice. "I'm sorry I got you in trouble," he mumbles. "With your mum and dad."

"Sirius." Remus grins. "It's all right. You didn't do anything - well, all right, you did Transfigure the car." He giggles. "But I shouldn't have done magic outside of school. Mum's just cross, she'll come round."

He steps a bit closer. "They're not like your parents, Padfoot," he says softly. "They don't hold grudges. It's all right, I promise."

"Oh." Sirius lowers his hands a bit. "Well, that's good, then." He looks at the kitten, feeling a bit foolish.

"It's cute," says Remus, scratching it behind the ears. "Looks a bit rough, though. You probably found it just in time." He looks at Sirius. "You got it for me?"

Sirius nods. "Yeah. You like animals."

"Mum's allergic to cats, though." Remus smiles apologetically. "We can't have them in the house."

"What?" Sirius's face falls. "But, what about-"

"Sirius." Remus grabs his arm and hauls him into a niche between the shops, where no one can see them. "You don't have to get me anything. It's sweet, but-" He leans in close. "I already have the best sort of animal I could ever get."

He kisses him, and Sirius forgets for a second that he's an idiot and kisses back, until a plaintive miaow comes from his hands.

"What about her?" Sirius asks when they part, looking at the kitten and frowning. "I can't take her back, she's so small..."

Remus giggles. "Well," he says, leaning his head on Sirius's shoulder, "I'd say you have a new familiar, Sirius."

--

They're back at the farm, leaning against the big tree and watching the kitten frolic in the clover. It's much healthier now thanks to a dish of milk and a bath through which Mrs Lupin sneezed the entire time. Grateful, Sirius had kissed her cheek and promised to keep the cat in the barn until the new term begins.

"What shall you name her?" Remus asks. He's leaning his head on Sirius's knee, reading through one of his new textbooks, Sirius's hands in his hair.

"Hm? Oh." Sirius looks at the kitten. She's discovered a bee, and is batting at it. "Don't know. She's kind of... weird-looking. And isn't it weird, that a dog has a pet cat?"

Remus snickers. "It's perfectly normal, I think." He sets his book aside and looks up at the sky. "Summer's almost over."

Sirius resumes toying with Remus's hair. "Aye," he says softly. "I wish it weren't."

"It'll be nice to get back to school, though," says Remus. "I've missed it a bit."

"You miss it?" Sirius looks at him dubiously. "How could you miss it when you have all this?" He flails a bit, as if to indicate the house and the farm and the fields that stretch on and on. "Your house is brilliant, Moony."

"I know. But it's nice at school."

"It's nicer here." Sirius can't quite keep the envy out of his voice. "You don't know how good you've got it, Remus." He looks off toward the house. "You're really lucky."

"Most people wouldn't call a werewolf lucky," says Remus darkly.

"Most people wouldn't call a werewolf anything but a werewolf," says Sirius. He looks down at Remus. "But I still say you're lucky. Your parents are good people. And this farm is brilliant fun. We did a lot here."

They're silent for a moment, and Sirius doesn't have to be a Legilimens to know what Remus is thinking. He's thinking of it too, of long, warm days and funfairs, crickets and Muggle whisky, of barns, fields and fish, and cellars and showers, and fur. He smiles, and when he looks down at Remus he sees him smiling, too.

He shifts and settles down next to Remus, to watch the setting sun. For a long time they say nothing at all, as the shadows stretch around them. The sky burns yellow and orange into red as the sun sinks down to where the sidewalks end. The kitten dozes at their feet.

After a while, Remus sighs. "You're right, Padfoot," he says quietly, leaning into him. "The days were just _packed_."


	9. Chapter 9

The cat is named Cat, because Sirius's imagination is better spent on pranks and things of that nature. Cat does not seem to mind her new name, if the way she curls up in Sirius's lap is any indication. Remus leans his chin in his hand and smirks as Padfoot and Cat roll about on the floor together. Two creatures, Remus thinks, forgotten in dark places and now rescued and thriving.

He laughs when Cat makes a kill of Padfoot's ear, and the dog lays its head patiently on the floor and allows himself to be gnawed upon.

"Cat," says Sirius afterward, once he's changed back and they've had dinner, and his charge is sleeping on one of Remus's pillows. "It's a stupid name isn't it?"

"Not particularly creative," Remus says thoughtfully, "but very precise."

Sirius rolls over and watches the cat sleep. His feet are in Remus's lap and it is very hard for Remus not to tickle at them with the business end of his quill. "She ought to have a proper name." Sirius touches the tip of her tail with his finger. "A full name."

Remus looks at him. "Have _you _a proper name, then?" he asks.

"Unfortunately." Sirius rolls his eyes. "It's horrible. My name is so long it goes off into another _county_. Has it's own weather system, my name."

"Well, go on then!" Remus laughs, and he does end up poking his quill at Sirius's foot. "Tell us what it is."

"No!" Sirius squeaks and shifts, hiding his feet beneath Remus's legs. "You'll laugh. Worse, you might tell James, and then I'll never hear the end of it."

"I won't."

"You will!" Sirius frowns. "You'll tell him and the next thing I know, it'll be written up on the boards in Transfiguration. Though," Sirius adds with a sigh, "perhaps old Minerva can show me how to Transfigure it into something a bit smaller?"

Remus snickers. "Go on," he says. "Tell me. I promise not to tell. I'm good at secrets, you see."

Sirius hums. "You are." He scratches his head. "Are you absolutely positive you won't tell?"

"Absolutely." Remus raises his right hand. "I solemnly swear."

"Right," says Sirius with a bright smile. "All right then. My full name..."

Remus leans in.

"My full name," says Sirius, "is _SiriusMizarBetelgueseMuliphenBlack_." He says it in one breath, and all the names run together but Remus can still pick them out. His eyes widen.

"You're joking," he says. "That's your full name?"

Sirius groans. "Tragic, isn't it? Bloody tradition, firstborn son and all that." He rolls onto his back and stares at the ceiling, his long black hair spread out all around him like some sort of reverse supernova. "It's my name, plus a cousin and a grandfather, I think."

Remus stares. "...Betelguese?" he says, trying not to laugh. Sirius scowls and kicks at him.

"Shut up! S'not funny!"

"Of course it isn't," says Remus, but he's smiling. "Your name is long but at least it's more interesting than Remus John."

Sirius sits up a bit. "Is that it?" he asks. Remus sighs and nods, feeling for the first time that it is a rather shortish name.

"Well," says Sirius. "I'm sorry."

"It's all right," says Remus. "It doesn't matter." He grins. "At least I'm not called _Betelguese_."

He doesn't even see the pillow coming.

--

It's the night before the night before they go back to school, and Remus is fitful. He ought to be sleeping, and Sirius certainly is. He's wrapped around Remus from behind and snoring away into his ear. Cat is somewhere south, around their feet, stretched out in a way that somehow makes her seem twice her size. It's very comfortable in Remus's bed and yet, he still can't sleep.

He wonders if it will continue, once they're back in school, this business with Sirius. Remus hopes that it will but he finds it highly unlikely, because Sirius will of course be very busy with pranks, and James and Quidditch, and all of those things. And Remus knows now what it means to be what they are, and what other people think of it.

No, he thinks, snuggling down into the blankets and tightening his grip on Sirius's arm, it won't do at all to be like this at Hogwarts. He shuts his eyes against the thought that he has only one more night of this closeness, of the breath at his back and the taste of Sirius on his tongue. He doesn't know what he's going to do, when all he has is an empty bed and air in his mouth.

"Moony."

Remus starts, and twists round. Sirius is blinking at him, his eyes flinty and fuzzy with sleep. "Padfoot?" he whispers. "What're you doing awake?"

Sirius shifts and rubs his nose on Remus's shoulder. "You're all fidgety," he murmurs. "What're you fidgeting about?"

"Nothing," says Remus. "Go back to sleep, Pads. We have to pack tomorrow."

"Wasn't nothing," Sirius grunted. "You're worrying about something."

"I'm not."

"Are too," says Sirius, and he gives Remus a pinch. "Cut it out."

Remus wriggles. "Stop pinching me."

"Right." Sirius sits up suddenly, rubbing his eyes and shoving his hair out of his face. He scratches his belly and smacks his lips, and looks around the room before sliding out of bed and stumbling over to the window.

"Sirius?" Remus frowns. "What're you doing?"

Sirius doesn't answer. He lifts the window open, taking a deep breath when the heady scent of a dying summer drifts into the bedroom. Remus can smell it too, even from the bed - the heather and the moss, the smell of the nearby river, the faint odor of cows. It's a pleasant smell somehow, and Remus finds himself leaning toward it, sniffing. He watches Sirius curiously.

"Come here." Sirius beckons him over with just his fingers. "Come here, Moony."

Remus slips out of bed and goes to where Sirius stands, leaning against the sill and looking outside. It is a very clear night, not a cloud in the sky and a thousand stars to show for it. The moon is long gone, and Remus is glad of that.

"What am I looking at?" Remus asks. He shivers when he looks out at the trees and the barn, because darkness always turns them from harmless things to shapes in shadow, and he can't help being somewhat frightened of them.

He hears a rustling behind him and when he turns it's Sirius brandishing a broom, a wicked smile on his face. Before Remus can say anything Sirius leans in and whispers, urgently into Remus's ear. "All the time we've been here," he says, "and we've never once flown. You don't fly."

Remus swallows. "I don't like to fly," he says softly. Sirius laughs.

"That," Sirius says, and he puts the broom into Remus's hands, "is because you've never flown with me."

At once Remus is turned back toward the window, and Sirius stands behind him. Remus can feel Sirius's breath in the shell of his ear, tickling.

"Let's fly," says Sirius. "While we still can. Forget whatever it is you're worrying about, and just fly with me. Okay, Moony?"

Remus nods. "Okay," he whispers. "Okay."

The broom is beneath him, and he feels it lifting him slowly off the floor. Sirius is on it as well, behind him, his arms around Remus and holding Remus's hands firmly against the broomstick. The room is so silent, even the crickets seem to be holding their breath. Remus is.

Sirius leans forward.

"_Fly_," he says.

At once they launch from the window and out into the sky. Remus is so terrified he can't even scream, and that is a good thing because he doesn't want to wake his parents. He doesn't want it to end, this terrible thrill of hurtling through the air, skimming the treetops with his feet. Sirius laughs behind him and in the distance a dog barks in reply.

"North!" Sirius shouts suddenly. "Go north!"

"Which way is north?"

Sirius laughs. "Who cares?"

They soar over the farm, past the cows and the pastures, past the creek and the place where the funfair had been. There are no autos on the roads below and no one to see them, not at this hour of the night. The broom suddenly darts higher and Remus can't tell if it's him or Sirius that's doing it. All he knows is that they are rising, faster and faster, closer to the darkness though the stars never change.

"Are you still worried?" Sirius shouts over the roar of the wind. "Still fidgety?"

"No!" Remus leans back against him, causing the broom to shudder and veer to the left. "Yes! I'm worried that I'll be sick!"

Sirius laughs. "Can't have that! Let's land there, just there." He points to a spot, and it's then that Remus smells seawater. They have reached the sea.

He's shivering when they touch down, having left in nothing but pyjama bottoms. Sirius is in shorts and not much better off, but he doesn't say anything. They stand on a grassy cliff and the ocean roars below them, slapping at the rocks. Remus's breath is caught on the breeze and taken away, and he reaches blindly for Sirius's hand to steady him.

"Moony." Sirius gives his hand a squeeze. "What're you worried about?"

"This." Remus looks at him. "School. We- Will we still be..." He doesn't ask the question because he can see the answer in the curve of Sirius's smile. "Oh. We will, then?"

"Of course we will," says Sirius. "You idiot. Of course we will."

Remus allows himself a little grin. "Oh. Okay."

"You idiot," Sirius says again, putting his arms around Remus and kissing him, and Remus feels a little bit insane because he's standing on a cliff, and he doesn't know where he is, and he's _ i kissing /i _ this boy on this cliff, and it's in the middle of the night and he _ i hasn't any shoes on /i _. The summer is over, and Remus is freezing.

Against his chest Sirius's heart beats like a bird trying to come out of its egg.

"Let's go home," he says.

--

They fly back and Remus is so tired that they've barely landed in the bedroom before he's collapsed on his bed half-asleep. Cat is there, looking cross and wondering where her bed-warmers had got to.

"Sorry," Sirius mumbles to her, and Remus feels himself being arranged under the blankets, Sirius's warmth following him under. When Sirius moves closer Remus turns, puts his nose to Sirius's hair and breathes. He smells seawater, and flight.

"Thank you," he murmurs, curling up into Sirius and sighing. "Clever Sirius." He giggles sleepily. "Goodnight, clever Sirius..."

He feels the thrum of Sirius's chuckle.

"The cleverness of me," he yawns.

They sleep, and the summer ends.


End file.
